GERALD (after watching them go, to PAMELA). Stay here a bit. There are too many people and dogs and things outside. Come and sit on the sofa and I'll tell you all the news. (He takes her hand and they go to the sofa together.) What ages you've been away! PAMELA. An hour and a half. And it need not have been that if you'd come with me. GERALD (taking her hand). If I had come with you, I would have held your hand all the way. PAMELA. I shouldn't have minded. GERALD. But just think what would have happened: You would have had to have driven with one hand down all the hills; we should have had a smash-up before we got halfway; a well-known society beauty and a promising young gentleman in the Foreign Office would have been maimed for life; and Bob would have to have walked here carrying his portmanteau. Besides, I love you going away from me when you come back. You've only got to come into the room, and the sun seems to shine. PAMELA. The sun always shines on Gerald. GERALD. Does it? That's a different sort of sunshine. Not the gentle caressing September afternoon sunshine which you wear all round you. (She is looking at him lovingly and happily as he says this, but she withdraws into herself quickly as he pulls himself up and says with a sudden change of tone) Dear me, I'm getting quite poetical, and two minutes ago I was talking to Wentworth about fetlocks. PAMELA (getting up). Oh, Gerald, Gerald! GERALD (getting up and smiling at her). Oh, Pamela, Pamela! PAMELA. I wonder how much you really want me. GERALD. I'll show you when we're married. I don't think I could even begin to tell you now. PAMELA (wistfully). Couldn't you try? (GERALD catches hold of her suddenly, and holding her tightly to him, kisses her again and again.) GERALD. There! PAMELA (releasing herself). Oh, Gerald, my darling, you frighten me sometimes. GERALD. Did I frighten you then? PAMELA (happily). Oh, no, no, no, no! (Earnestly) Always want me very much, Gerald. Always be in need of me. Don't be too successful without me. However much the sun shines on you, let me make it gentler and more caressing for you. GERALD. It is so, darling. Didn't I say so? PAMELA. Ah, but I want such a lot of telling. GERALD (laughing happily as he goes over to the table by the fireplace and takes a cigarette). Who was the fellow who threw something into the sea because he was frightened by his own luck? What shall I throw? (Looking at a presentation clock on the mantelpiece) That's rather asking for it. In a way it would be killing two birds with one stone. Oh, Lord, I am lucky! PAMELA (coming to him and taking his arm). As long as you don't throw me. GERALD. Pamela, you're talking rubbish. I talk a good deal myself, but I do keep within the bounds. Let's go and chatter to Bob about contangos. I don't know what they are, but they sound extraordinarily sober. PAMELA (gently). Poor old Bob! GERALD (quickly). Why _poor_ old Bob?