Flora. No, it isn't.
Cedric. Pardon me. Three thousand five hundred and seventy feet. The next highest is——
Flora. Well, you go and tell Lloyd George that Snowdon is the highest mountain in England, and see what you'll get.
Cedric. Wales, then. It's all the same.
Flora. (With great charm.) If you're thinking of the ten thousand pounds, I don't mind informing you, as a great secret, that I wouldn't sell a single day of my honeymoon with you for ten times ten thousand pounds. But I told you I wanted an expensive honeymoon, didn't I?
Cedric. (Shaking his head and with calm certainty.) The money doesn't influence me that much! (Snaps his fingers.) I don't wish to flatter myself, but I think I could light your cigarette with a bank note as gracefully as anybody. No——
Flora. You're pulling away at that cigar of yours, but I suppose you know it isn't lighted.
Cedric. Isn't it? (As he lights the cigar.) No! This Snowdon business. Well, it's a symbol (half to himself). I wonder how I can make you understand that.
Flora. (Fascinatingly.) Oh! Force is unnecessary, I understand that. But who was it said just now that the honeymoon was a symbol? It stands for all our married life. It's the most exciting and interesting time we shall ever have. And you can't put a honeymoon off, you know. It isn't like a box of cigars that you can keep in a cupboard and enjoy one of them every now and then when you've got a few minutes to spare. It must happen now or never. You can't postpone it. You can only kill it. (Smiles lightly.)
Cedric. (Taking hold of her, in a caressing tone.) She's tragic!