STEVE, sulkily, ‘Oh, all right.’
AMY. ‘She is to pass out of your life to-night. To-morrow you go abroad for a long time.’
STEVE, with excusable warmth, ‘Oh, do I! Where am I going?’
AMY. ‘We thought—’
STEVE. ‘We?’
AMY. ‘A friend and I who have been talking it over. We thought of Africa—to shoot big game.’
STEVE, humouring her, ‘You must be very fond of this lady.’
AMY. ‘I would die for her.’
STEVE, feeling that he ought really to stick up a little for himself, ‘After all, am I so dreadful? Why shouldn’t she love me?’
AMY. ‘A married woman!’