GERALD. No, there isn't.—I'm not going to smug with you—no, not I. You're smug in your coming back. You feel virtuous, and expect me to rise to it. I won't.
ANABEL. Then I'd better have stayed away.
GERALD. If you want me to virtuise and smug with you, you had.
ANABEL. What DO you want, then?
GERALD. I don't know. I know I don't want THAT.
ANABEL. Oh, very well. (Goes to the piano; begins to play.)
(Enter MRS. BARLOW.)
GERALD. Hello, mother! Father HAS gone to bed.
MRS. BARLOW. Oh, I thought he was down here talking. You two alone?
GERALD. With the piano for chaperone, mother.