Gerald. That? That's my revolver. Always carry them in Cyprus, you know. Plenty of sport there.
Rosamund [breathing again]. Kindly take it out of your pocket and put it on the table. Then if it does go off it will go off into something less valuable than a cookery-lecturer.
Gerald [laughingly obeying her]. There. If anything happens it will happen to the screen. Now, Rosie, I'm in love, and I desire that you should tell me whom I'm in love with. There's a magnificent girl in Cyprus, daughter of the Superintendent of Police—
Rosamund. Name?
Gerald. Evelyn. Age nineteen. I tell you I was absolutely gone on her.
Rosamund. Symptoms?
Gerald. Well—er—whenever her name was mentioned I blushed terrifically. Of course, that was only one symptom.... Then I met a girl on the home steamer—no father or mother. An orphan, you know, awfully interesting.
Rosamund. Name?
Gerald. Madge. Nice name, isn't it? [Rosamund nods.] I don't mind telling you, I was considerably struck by her—still am, in fact.
Rosamund. Symptoms?