KATE. What fun! I won't be a moment. (She goes to the door) Cyril, you will _always_ love me?
NORWOOD. Of course I will, darling. (She nods at him and goes out. He is very well pleased with himself when he is left alone. He goes to the telephone with a smile) Gerrard 11,001. Yes . . . I want a table for two. To-night . . . Mr. Cyril Norwood . . . Oh, in about half an hour . . . Yes, for two. Is that all right? . . . Thank you.
(He puts the receiver back and turns round to see DENNIS CAMBERLEY, who has just come in. DENNIS is certainly a man now; very easily and pleasantly master of himself and of anybody else who gets in his way.)
NORWOOD (wondering who he is). You--er----?
DENNIS. Oh yes, I've heard a good deal about you, Mr. Cyril Norwood.
NORWOOD (stiffly). I don't think I've had the pleasure of--er----
DENNIS (winningly). Oh, but I'm sure you must have heard a good deal about _me_.
DENNIS. I do, indeed. (With a bow) Dennis Camberley, the missing husband. (Pleadingly) You _have_ heard about me, _haven't_ you?
NORWOOD. I--er--Mr. Camberley, yes, of course. So you're back?
DENNIS. Yes, I'm back. Sometimes they don't come back, Mr. Norwood, and sometimes--they do. . . . Even after four years. . . . But you _did_ talk about me sometimes?
DENNIS. One of those little Eastern birds, which sit on the backs of crocodiles, searching for--well, let us say, breakfast. He said to me one morning: "Talking of parasites," he said, "do you know Mr. Cyril Norwood?" he said, "because I could tell you an interesting story about him," he said, "if you care to--"
NORWOOD (wheeling round furiously). Look here, sir, we'd better have it out quite plainly. I don't want any veiled insults and sneers from you. I admit that an unfortunate situation has arisen, but we must look facts in the face. You may be Mrs. Camberley's husband, but she has not seen you for four years, and--well, she and I love each other. There you have it. What are you going to do?
DENNIS (anxiously). You don't feel that I have neglected her, Mr. Norwood? You see, I couldn't come home for week-ends very well, and--
DENNIS (pleasantly). Well, what do you suggest?
NORWOOD (taken aback). Really, sir, I--er--
DENNIS. You see, I feel so out of it all. I've been leading such a nasty, uncivilised life for the last four years, I really hardly know what is--what is being done. Now _you_ have been mixing in Society . . . making munitions . . .