Smith. To Colonel Smith. (Turns away from her with sudden understanding.) I see.
Phyllis. (More melodramatically) You know she had met him at Southampton. (Smith looks at her.) For a week they had been together. (Smith turns in his chair.) Only that morning he had told her of his love. An hour later he was steaming down Southampton Water to leave his neglected bones on the arid wastes of a----
Smith. (Interrupting her) Ahem! You'll excuse me----
Phyllis. I beg pardon. He was on his way to Somaliland. She wrote to him that night.
Smith. (Slowly) Yes, the letter reached him. (Tapping his pocket) I have it here.
Phyllis. (Sentimentally) He kept it?
Smith. Yes, he kept it. He used to sit and study it by the hour.
Phyllis. How truly beautiful. Oh, you must tell Celia that. You mustn't rob her of any of her grief.
Smith. No, that would be too bad. So there was no opportunity for Smith to come and make your acquaintance?
Phyllis. No, but I have heard so much of him from Celia that I could almost believe I see him. (Stares dreamily at Smith. Smith rises slowly, a little disconcerted. Phyllis rising and moving R.) I'll go and send Celia to you.