KATE. Go out now, and not wait for him to have his five minutes?
NORWOOD (impatiently). What does he want with five minutes? What's the good of it to him? Just to take a pathetic farewell of you, and pretend that you've ruined his life, when all the time he's chuckling in his sleeve at having got rid of you so easily. I know these young fellows. Some Major's wife in India is what he's got his eye on. . . . Or else he'll try fooling around with the hands-up business. You don't want to be mixed up with any scandal of that sort. No, the best thing we can do—I'm speaking for your sake, Kate—is to slip off quietly, while we've got the chance. We can write and explain all that we want to explain.
KATE (looking wonderingly at him—another man whom she doesn't know). Is that playing quite fair to Dennis?
NORWOOD. Good Lord, this isn't a game! Camberley may think so with his tossing-up and all the rest of it, but you and I aren't children. Everything's fair in a case like this. Put your hat on—quickly—(he gets it for her)—here you are—
KATE (standing up). I'm not sure, Cyril.
NORWOOD. What d'you mean?
KATE. He expects me to wait for him.
NORWOOD. If it comes to that, he expected you to wait for him four years ago.
KATE. Yes. . . . (Quietly) Thank you for reminding me.
NORWOOD. Kate, don't be stupid. What's happened to you? Of course, I know it's been beastly upsetting for you, all this—but then, why do you want to go on with it? Why do you want more upsetting scenes?