BOB. It's all very well for you.... I wish you could have—well, anyhow, I suppose Thursday's better than nothing. You'll see just how it is then. (Getting up) You won't say anything about it to the others?
GERALD. Of course not. What about Pamela? Does she know anything?
BOB. She knows that I'm worried about something, but of course she doesn't know what I've told you.
GERALD. All right, then I won't tell her anything. At least, I'll just say that bananas remain firm at 127, and that I've got to go and see my broker about it. (Smiling) Something like that.
(BOB goes towards the garden, while GERALD stops to wait for PAMELA. At the door he turns round.)
BOB (awkwardly). Er—thanks. [Exit.]
(GERALD throws him a nod, as much as to say, "That's all right." He stands looking after him, gives a little sigh, laughs and says to himself, "Poor old Bob!" He is half-sitting on, half-leaning against the table, thinking it all over, when PAMELA comes in again.)
PAMELA. I waited for him to go; I knew he wanted to talk to you about something. Gerald, he is all right, isn't he?
GERALD (taking her hands). Who? Bob? Oh yes, he's all right. So is Pamela.
PAMELA. Sure?