Smith. (In surprise, holding them towards Celia) They were Smith's, and you couldn't take them! Ah, I understand. You had quarreled. (Puts things into pockets.)
Celia. No, we never quarreled. There was never one harsh word spoken by me to him or by him to me.
Smith. (L.C. Standing) Then why refuse his gifts?
Celia. (Goes to table R. At a loss) Well--you see--he had never given me anything.
Smith. (Suddenly smiles and brings out parcels again) How like Smith! How very like him! Even he had his failings. But we, who knew him so well, can afford to speak of them frankly.
Celia. I don't think you understand, Colonel Vavasour. Gifts would have been impossible in such an engagement as that which existed between him and me.
Smith. (Severely) Let Smith be the judge of that. (Goes a step toward her) Perhaps he is in this room now watching you refuse his gifts. (Celia moves R., uneasily looking back over her shoulder. Sternly) Watching you with the pain he didn't feel when he died of wounds at Berbera. (He follows her and forces her to take the watch. She gingerly takes it and unwraps it, letting the watch fall out and hang by the chain, which she holds. It is a large, heavy gold watch of the "turnip" variety.) His watch and chain. (She lifts it up and down to show its weight.) He bids you wear it always on your bosom. (She recoils. Pleadingly) To please Smith, whom we both loved. (She looks helplessly about for a moment and then, in essaying to hang the watch about her neck, it slips and falls down inside her dress. They turn away from each other with varying emotions. Turning back) By Jove! I say that's ripping of you.
Celia. I beg your pardon, sir!
Smith. (Solemnly) I am thanking you in my dead comrade's name, my dearest friend. (Bows his head.)
Celia. (Crossing him to L.) Oh, I didn't understand.