LARRY. That was very bad for you. Why didn't you give it up? Why did you stay here?
NORA. Because nobody sent for me to go anywhere else, I suppose. That's why.
LARRY. Yes: one does stick frightfully in the same place, unless some external force comes and routs one out. [He yawns slightly; but as she looks up quickly at him, he pulls himself together and rises with an air of waking up and getting to work cheerfully to make himself agreeable]. And how have you been all this time?
NORA. Quite well, thank you.
LARRY. That's right. [Suddenly finding that he has nothing else to say, and being ill at ease in consequence, he strolls about the room humming a certain tune from Offenbach's Whittington].
NORA [struggling with her tears]. Is that all you have to say to me, Larry?
LARRY. Well, what is there to say? You see, we know each other so well.