Smith. (Still holding her hands) You shall go. I shall let you go. The instant you tell me to whom you are speaking--Celia.
Celia. Really, this is an outrage. Will you kindly let me go, Colonel Smith?
Smith. He can't. You remember you killed him of wounds at Berbera.
Celia. Well, Colonel Vavasour, will you please let me go?
Smith. He can't. The lawyers haven't finished making him.
Celia. (After a pause, while she slowly breaks into a laugh) Oh, very well, then--Wobbles.
(Smith releases her hand and she hurries to door R. and opens it.)
Smith. Please don't go. Come into the next room and talk things over.
(Auto horn toots impatiently off R.)
Celia. No, no, I can't. There's Mr. Raleigh. He's come up to the door. Good-bye.