Celia. Yes, that would be very delightful--but not just yet, please--not just yet.
Smith. Not just yet, of course not just yet. But possibly when time has reconciled you to your loss. She expressed the hope that some day--but not just yet, of course, you and she might journey together to Somaliland with a wreath.
Celia. Yes. (Choking and turning away her head.) That's a very sweet idea. We might go out for the Xmas holidays.
Smith. Oh, I know. I can gauge, Miss Faraday, the measure of your grief by my own. But there is just one alleviation which I am very glad to bring to you.
Celia. What is that, please?
Smith. When Colonel Smith died--of wounds--at Berbera, he died without any pain.
Celia. (Rising, alarmed) It is very good of you, Colonel Vavasour, to have come all the way from London to tell me this. (Starts as if to exit, holding out her hand to Smith.)
(Smith also rises, takes her hand and detains her C.)
Smith. This--and more. I was with him at the last. How well I remember the scene. He used to lie on his sick bed-gazing across the thatched roofs of Berbera to the Arab dhows riding at their anchors in the sea. (She turns away R.) And he gave into my hands a few small things to bring you. (Celia turns away, horrified.) Trifles which he habitually wore. Here are a few of them. (Brings out packages containing watch and pin from pockets.)
Celia. Heavens!! No!--I couldn't think of taking them.