Mrs. Warren's Profession

Bernard Shaw
Mrs. Warren’s Profession

[Summer afternoon in a cottage garden on the eastern slope of a hill a little south of Haslemere in Surrey.

Looking up the hill, the cottage is seen in the left hand corner of the garden, with its thatched roof and porch, and a large latticed window to the left of the porch.

A paling completely shuts in the garden, except for a gate on the right.

The common rises uphill beyond the paling to the sky line.

Some folded canvas garden chairs are leaning against the side bench in the porch.

A lady’s bicycle is propped against the wall, under the window.

A little to the right of the porch a hammock is slung from two posts.

A big canvas umbrella, stuck in the ground, keeps the sun off the hammock, in which a young lady is reading and making notes, her head towards the cottage and her feet towards the gate.

In front of the hammock, and within reach of her hand, is a common kitchen chair, with a pile of serious-looking books and a supply of writing paper on it.]

[A gentleman walking on the common comes into sight from behind the cottage.

He is hardly past middle age, with something of the artist about him, unconventionally but carefully dressed, and clean-shaven except for a moustache, with an eager susceptible face and very amiable and considerate manners.

He has silky black hair, with waves of grey and white in it.

His eyebrows are white, his moustache black.

He seems not certain of his way.
He looks over the palings; takes stock of the place; and sees the young lady.]

THE GENTLEMAN [taking off his hat].

I beg your pardon.

Can you direct me to Hindhead View – Mrs Alison’s?

THE YOUNG LADY [glancing up from her book].

This is Mrs Alison’s. [She resumes her work].

THE GENTLEMAN.

Indeed!

Perhaps – may I ask are you Miss Vivie Warren?

THE YOUNG LADY [sharply, as she turns on her elbow to get a good look at him].

Yes.

THE GENTLEMAN [daunted and conciliatory].

I’m afraid I appear intrusive.

My name is Praed. [Vivie at once throws her books upon the chair, and gets out of the hammock].

Oh, pray don’t let me disturb you.

VIVIE [striding to the gate and opening it for him].

Come in, Mr Praed. [He comes in].

Glad to see you. [She proffers her hand and takes his with a resolute and hearty grip.

She is an attractive specimen of the sensible, able, highly-educated young middle-class Englishwoman.

Age 22.