BOB (mumbling). Yes, but she might—Ah, you couldn't charm her away from me this time.
GERALD (with an effort). I don't know what you mean by "this time." I think we'd better leave Pamela out of it altogether. She's waiting for you outside. Last time I offered to shake hands with you, you had some fancied grievance against me, and you wouldn't; now if there's any grievance between us, it's on my side. (Holding out his hand) Good-bye, Bob, and—quite honestly—good luck.
BOB (ignoring the hand). Magnanimous Gerald!
(GERALD looks at him in surprise for a moment. Then he shrugs his shoulders, turns round, and goes back to the mantelpiece, and takes a cigarette from the box there.)
GERALD. I'm tired of you, Bob. If you don't want me, I don't want you. (He sits down in a chair and lights his cigarette.)
BOB. And now I suppose you're thoroughly pleased with yourself, and quite happy.
GERALD (looking at him in absolute wonder). Happy? You fool! (Something in BOB'S face surprises him, and he gets up and says) Why do you suddenly hate me like this?
BOB (with a bitter laugh). Suddenly!
GERALD (almost frightened). Bob!
BOB (letting the jealousy that has been pent up for years come out at last). You're surprised! Surprised! You would be. You've never stopped to think what other people are thinking; you take it for granted that they all love you, and that's all you care about. Do you think I liked playing second fiddle to you all my life? Do you think I've never had any ambitions of my own? I suppose you thought I was quite happy being one of the crowd of admirers round you, all saying, "Oh, look at Gerald, isn't he wonderful?"