Celia. (Crosses C. Smiles ironically) Yes?
Phyllis. I tell you he does! (Forgetting herself in her zeal) As soon as he has time, Bobby means to do everything he can to get Admiral Grice to propose to you!
Celia. (Recoiling) What!!
Phyllis. (Crestfallen) Oh--I oughtn't to have told you, I suppose. But it's true, all the same. (Reproachfully) You don't appreciate Bobby's noble nature, Celia. You don't know how Bobby realizes your--your loneliness, Celia. Unless you could hear him talk about you, you'd never guess how much darling Bobby pities you.
Celia. (In a changed voice) Phyllis. One moment, please---- (With an effort at calm) Do you mean to say that you and--and Mr. Tarver have been--been discussing--me? Oh! (Clenching her handkerchief.)
Phyllis. Not discussing---- (Self-righteously) Bobby would not discuss anybody. But--you see, Celia, we were all--Aunt Ida and all of us--talking, just in fun, about your having to wear Green Stockings once more at my wedding, and Bobby--(Laughs to herself) Darling Bobby, is so witty----!
Celia. Oh, yes--go on, Phyllis.
Phyllis. (Injured) Well, but he is.
Celia. Oh, yes--yes----
Phyllis. And so Bobby was just being most awfully sweet and sympathetic about your--your position.