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    Justice
    Justice
    Justice
    Ebook101 pages1 hour

    Justice

    By John Galsworthy

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    About this ebook

    John Galsworthy was an English author and playwright best known for writing The Forsyte Saga and its sequels.  Galsworthy won the Novel Prize in Literature in 1932.  This edition of Justice includes a table of contents.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCharles River Editors
    Release dateMar 22, 2018
    ISBN9781508015574
    Justice
    Author

    John Galsworthy

    John Galsworthy was a Nobel-Prize (1932) winning English dramatist, novelist, and poet born to an upper-middle class family in Surrey, England. He attended Harrow and trained as a barrister at New College, Oxford. Although called to the bar in 1890, rather than practise law, Galsworthy travelled extensively and began to write. It was as a playwright Galsworthy had his first success. His plays—like his most famous work, the series of novels comprising The Forsyte Saga—dealt primarily with class and the social issues of the day, and he was especially harsh on the class from which he himself came.

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      Book preview

      Justice - John Galsworthy

      JUSTICE

      ………………

      John Galsworthy

      KYPROS PRESS

      Thank you for reading. In the event that you appreciate this book, please show the author some love.

      This book is a work of fiction; its contents are wholly imagined.

      All rights reserved. Aside from brief quotations for media coverage and reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the author’s permission. Thank you for supporting authors and a diverse, creative culture by purchasing this book and complying with copyright laws.

      Copyright © 2015 by John Galsworthy

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      Justice

      PERSONS OF THE PLAY

      ACT I

      ACT II

      ACT III

      SCENE I

      SCENE II

      SCENE III

      ACT IV

      Justice

      By

      John Galsworthy

      JUSTICE

      ………………

      PERSONS OF THE PLAY

      ………………

      JAMES HOW, solicitor

      WALTER HOW, solicitor

      ROBERT COKESON, their managing clerk

      WILLIAM FALDER, their junior clerk

      SWEEDLE, their office-boy

      WISTER, a detective

      COWLEY, a cashier

      MR. JUSTICE FLOYD, a judge

      HAROLD CLEAVER, an old advocate

      HECTOR FROME, a young advocate

      CAPTAIN DANSON, V.C., a prison governor

      THE REV. HUGH MILLER, a prison chaplain

      EDWARD CLEMENT, a prison doctor

      WOODER, a chief warder

      MOANEY, convict

      CLIFTON, convict

      O’CLEARY, convict

      RUTH HONEYWILL, a woman

      A NUMBER OF BARRISTERS, SOLICITERS, SPECTATORS, USHERS, REPORTERS,

      JURYMEN, WARDERS, AND PRISONERS

      TIME: The Present.

      ACT I

      ………………

      THE SCENE IS THE MANAGING clerk’s room, at the offices of James and Walter How, on a July morning. The room is old fashioned, furnished with well-worn mahogany and leather, and lined with tin boxes and estate plans. It has three doors. Two of them are close together in the centre of a wall. One of these two doors leads to the outer office, which is only divided from the managing clerk’s room by a partition of wood and clear glass; and when the door into this outer office is opened there can be seen the wide outer door leading out on to the stone stairway of the building. The other of these two centre doors leads to the junior clerk’s room. The third door is that leading to the partners’ room. The managing clerk, COKESON, is sitting at his table adding up figures in a pass-book, and murmuring their numbers to himself. He is a man of sixty, wearing spectacles; rather short, with a bald head, and an honest, pugdog face. He is dressed in a well-worn black frock-coat and pepper-and-salt trousers.

      COKESON. And five’s twelve, and three—fifteen, nineteen, twenty-three, thirty-two, forty-one-and carry four. [He ticks the page, and goes on murmuring] Five, seven, twelve, seventeen, twenty-four and nine, thirty-three, thirteen and carry one.

      He again makes a tick. The outer office door is opened, and SWEEDLE, the office-boy, appears, closing the door behind him. He is a pale youth of sixteen, with spiky hair.

      COKESON. [With grumpy expectation] And carry one.

      SWEEDLE. There’s a party wants to see Falder, Mr. Cokeson.

      COKESON. Five, nine, sixteen, twenty-one, twenty-nine—and carry two. Send him to Morris’s. What name?

      SWEEDLE. Honeywill.

      COKESON. What’s his business?

      SWEEDLE. It’s a woman.

      COKESON. A lady?

      SWEEDLE. No, a person.

      COKESON. Ask her in. Take this pass-book to Mr. James. [He closes the pass-book.]

      SWEEDLE. [Reopening the door] Will you come in, please?

      RUTH HONEYWILL comes in. She is a tall woman, twenty-six years old, unpretentiously dressed, with black hair and eyes, and an ivory-white, clear-cut face. She stands very still, having a natural dignity of pose and gesture. SWEEDLE goes out into the partners’ room with the pass-book.

      COKESON. [Looking round at RUTH] The young man’s out. [Suspiciously] State your business, please.

      RUTH. [Who speaks in a matter-of-fact voice, and with a slight West-Country accent] It’s a personal matter, sir.

      COKESON. We don’t allow private callers here. Will you leave a message?

      RUTH. I’d rather see him, please.

      She narrows her dark eyes and gives him a honeyed look.

      COKESON. [Expanding] It’s all against the rules. Suppose I had my friends here to see me! It’d never do!

      RUTH. No, sir.

      COKESON. [A little taken aback] Exactly! And here you are wanting to see a junior clerk!

      RUTH. Yes, sir; I must see him.

      COKESON. [Turning full round to her with a sort of outraged interest] But this is a lawyer’s office. Go to his private address.

      RUTH. He’s not there.

      COKESON. [Uneasy] Are you related to the party?

      RUTH. No, sir.

      COKESON. [In real embarrassment] I don’t know what to say. It’s no affair of the office.

      RUTH. But what am I to do?

      COKESON. Dear me! I can’t tell you that.

      SWEEDLE comes back. He crosses to the outer office and passes through into it, with a quizzical look at Cokeson, carefully leaving the door an inch or two open.

      COKESON. [Fortified by this look] This won’t do, you know, this won’t do at all. Suppose one of the partners came in!

      An incoherent knocking and chuckling is heard from the outer door of the outer office.

      SWEEDLE. [Putting his head in] There’s some children outside here.

      RUTH. They’re mine, please.

      SWEEDLE. Shall I hold them in check?

      RUTH. They’re quite small, sir. [She takes a step towards COKESON]

      COKESON. You mustn’t take up his time in office hours; we’re a clerk short as it is.

      RUTH. It’s a matter of life and death.

      COKESON. [Again outraged] Life and death!

      SWEEDLE. Here is Falder.

      FALDER has entered through the outer office. He is a pale, good-looking young man, with quick, rather scared eyes. He moves towards the door of the clerks’ office, and stands there irresolute.

      COKESON. Well, I’ll give you a minute. It’s not regular.

      Taking up a bundle of papers, he goes out into the partners’ room.

      RUTH. [In a low, hurried voice] He’s on the drink again, Will. He tried to cut my throat last night. I came out with the children before he was awake. I went round to you.

      FALDER. I’ve changed my digs.

      RUTH. Is it all ready for to-night?

      FALDER. I’ve got the tickets. Meet me 11.45 at the booking office. For God’s sake don’t forget we’re man and wife! [Looking at her with tragic intensity] Ruth!

      RUTH. You’re not afraid of going, are you?

      FALDER. Have you got your things, and the children’s?

      RUTH. Had to leave them, for fear of waking Honeywill, all but one bag. I can’t go near home again.

      FALDER. [Wincing] All that money gone for nothing. How much must you have?

      RUTH. Six pounds—I could do with that, I think.

      FALDER. Don’t give away where we’re going. [As if to himself] When I get out there I mean to forget it all.

      RUTH. If you’re sorry, say so. I’d sooner he killed me than take you against your will.

      FALDER. [With a queer smile] We’ve got to

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