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And-are you happy?

      Celia. (Looking at group bending over her) Well, I really believe that this change will make a very great difference in my life.

      Faraday. (Patting Celia on shoulder) Well, I hope so, my dear child, I hope so. Now, let's go back and finish our rubber.

      (There is a general bright buzz of conversation, such as "By jove!" "I'll bet it does," "Why, yes, Celia," "Well, I should think it would," "Indeed it will," etc. Faraday goes up to card room with Evelyn, Grice and Aunt Ida. They resume their bridge game in former positions. Madge catches Tarver's eye and they join each other up R., evidently talking about Celia's engagement. Phyllis stops on sofa, talking across to Celia, as Celia glances over the remaining envelopes and slips them into the large blue envelope, in view of audience.)

      Raleigh. (To Steele, L.C.) It's obvious that Smith didn't find it difficult.

      Steele. (Who is R. of Raleigh. Looking thoughtfully at Celia) No, he didn't. Perhaps, we have all been mistaken. You know she isn't so bad looking-if you look long enough. (Steele starts to cross to Celia. Raleigh stops him and goes over himself. Steele comes back of chair L.)

      Raleigh. Miss Faraday, I haven't congratulated you yet. I hope you won't go off to Southampton soon again. We all missed you dreadfully when you were away.

      (Steele shows impatience at Raleigh's talking to Celia.)

      Celia. I'm sure you did. My coming back as I've done seems to have made a very great difference.

      Raleigh. Oh, great. Believe me, great. Well, you've every good wish of mine. (Gushingly extending his hand, which Celia takes amusedly.)

      Celia. (Warmly) I am sure I have, Mr. Raleigh.

      Faraday. (From card room) Come, Raleigh.

      Raleigh. (Over his shoulder) But you threw down your cards.

      Faraday. Well, I'm going to take them up again.

      Grice. (Impatiently) Come along, Raleigh!

      Steele. (Triumphantly motions Raleigh back to card room and eagerly takes his place beside Celia's chair) What Raleigh has just said, I most warmly echo, my dear Miss Faraday.

      (Raleigh returns and takes Steele by the arm.)

      Raleigh. You are wanted over here, Steele.

      (Celia watches them with amusement.)

      Steele. But I am cut out.

      Raleigh. (Taking Steele back to card room) Well, you can cut in again.

      (Steele goes reluctantly back to card room, protesting to Raleigh and looking back over his shoulder at Celia as he goes. Those in card room resume former positions and go on with bridge game.)

      Madge. (Coming down to Celia and putting her arms around her) Celia!

      (Tarver strolls up to morning room and sits right of table and begins reading again.)

      Celia. Yes.

      Madge. The Indian Mail goes out to-night-via Brindisi and Port Said.

      Celia. Well?

      Madge. Port Said. That's where letters to Somaliland will be transferred.

      (Celia is startled.)

      Phyllis. Oh, of course you must write to him. (Jumps up, runs up to writing table R.C., brings blotter from table, containing sheets of paper, envelopes, pens and ink, and puts them on magazine table; stands above and to the R. of Celia.)

      Celia. (Protestingly) But it's too late.

      Madge. No, the post doesn't go until ten. You have just time.

      Phyllis. (Opening blotting pad and ink well) You must, if it is only a note. He will be expecting something.

      Celia. Oh, I couldn't write in such a hurry.

      Phyllis. (Forcing pen into Celia's hand) You must.

      Celia. (Laughingly) Well, I can't write with you two at my elbows, you know.

      (Madge goes slowly up into card room, turning and smiling at Celia as she goes.)

      Phyllis. (Running up and around and down to foot of sofa) I shan't look. (Kneels on Chesterfield sofa, facing Celia) What do you call him?

      Celia. (At a loss) I don't know.

      Phyllis. (Surprised) You don't know?

      Celia. (Recovering herself) I mean, dear, I use a pet name.

      Phyllis. Oh, lovely, what is it?

      Celia. Really, it's too absurd, you know, Phyllis. It's-it's-Wobbles.

      Phyllis. (Laughing and surprised) Wobbles!

      Celia. Yes, dear. Everybody calls him-Wobbles.

      Phyllis. (Laughing) Celia, it's delicious. Fancy your being married to a man called Wobbles! (Pretending to write in the air) "My darling Wobbles." (Laughs and runs up to Tarver, who is seated reading in the morning room, saying as she goes) Bobby, what do you think? (She tells Tarver the name of Celia's fiance in dumb show as she sits opposite him.)

      Celia. (Writing) "My darling Wobbles."

      (Tarver laughs. Laugh in card room.)

      Celia. (Looks around to see that no one is overlooking or watching her. Writes) "I hardly know how to write you. It all seems too hauntingly beautiful to be true. I see your face everywhere-Wobbles. The very tulips have a look of you. Oh, dearest, don't get wounded in the war." (Leans back and laughs to herself) Good Heavens, when I got up this morning, did I ever think that I should be doing anything like this? (Resumes writing) "This is my first love letter, Wobbles, but even I know how it ought to end. Crosses, Wobbles, crosses. One, two, three, four, five, nought, nought, nought, nought, nought. To be taken as required. Thine forever. Celia Faraday." (Phyllis comes to right of sofa and hands envelope to Celia.) Thank you, dear. (Tarver strolls down center, looking at Celia. Celia turns letter face down on blotter to prevent its being seen by Phyllis. Then seeing that she is being scrutinised by Tarver and Phyllis, she takes envelope from Phyllis, places letter in it, addresses it and seals it. Addressing letter) "Colonel Smith, Field Force, Somaliland, Africa."

      Tarver. I say, Miss Faraday.

      Celia. Yes.

      Tarver. I hope awfully that you will help me in my election.

      Raleigh. (Speaking from card room, turning in his chair and holding card aloft) Yes, it's just girls like you, Miss Faraday, who win the day.

      Tarver. Righto!!

      Grice. (Thumping the table) Have you none of that suit, sir?

      Raleigh. (Whirling around and playing) Oh, yes, I beg your pardon.

      (Madge comes to desk, gets her letter, goes down to foot of sofa and hands it to Phyllis. Steele sees that Celia has finished letter and comes slowly down C.)

      Celia. Of course, I will help you, Mr. Tarver. It's awfully nice to have you ask me for help, you know.

      Tarver. Oh, thanks awfully. (Goes up and around to Phyllis, who is on sofa, talks to Madge and Phyllis.)

      Steele. You have finished, Miss Faraday?

      Celia. Yes.

      Steele. May I put that letter in the box for you?

      Celia. No, thanks. I will see to it.

      Steele. Well-wouldn't you like to come and play a game of billiards?

      Celia.

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