Smith. I mean did meant--I mean did mean--to good old Smith. (Leaning forward with a smile. Moves his chair below table a little closer to hers.) I say, I've an idea. Let's forget Smith for five minutes and talk of something else.
Celia. (Forgetting herself) Oh, yes! Do let's.
Smith. What shall we talk about?
Celia. (Very engagingly) You. You have hardly said a word yet about yourself--and--naturally I am interested. (Speaks with a smile. Face on L. hand.)
(Smith edges toward her, delighted R. elbow on table, face on hand.)
Smith. I was born--guess when?
Celia. Thirty years ago.
Smith. (Holding out box) Have a cigarette?
Celia. No, thank you. I'd rather not. Do you think Smith would have liked me to smoke?
Smith. Ah, you see, we can't get away from him. He dominates us. Living or dead, his imperious nature will not be neglected. He sits at the table here between you and me. (Designates a spot between them on table.) To satisfy him, we've got to talk about him.