CELIA. (_Smiling at him admiringly_) You can't know what it means to a woman who has lived always in a little out-of-the-way place like this, where only the same ordinary things happen day after day, to hear of wonderful deeds like these--from a man who's done them! (_Speaks earnestly, without gushing_.) (SMITH _beams; moves his chair slightly towards her_.) SMITH. Oh, yes. We are getting along together capitally, aren't we? And you can't know how all this--(_Moves his hand to include the room_)--appeals to a man who finds the skirmish and the camp a bit of an old story, and realizes that this--the quiet, well-ordered household--the home--and the home-maker--is after all what is really worth fighting for. CELIA. (_Leans forward, listening_) But--surely you have a home? SMITH. I have a house---- By Jove! _Now_ I have _two_ houses! CELIA. (_Interested_) You have just bought another place? SMITH. Inherited it. An old Abbey about the size of Trafalgar Square on a wet day--and not as cheerful. CELIA. But you mustn't let yourself be lonely. You ought to marry. SMITH. (_Moves his chair closer to_ CELIA) That's what I begin to think. (MARTIN _enters_ R. _with tray. On it, two small cups, small sugar bowl and a coffee pot, also one cigarette for_ CELIA.) CELIA. (_Seeing_ MARTIN) Won't you have a cigarette? (_Offering_ SMITH _cigarette box_.) SMITH. (_Takes cigarette and moves back_) Thank you. MARTIN. (_Placing coffee on the table_) Coffee, Miss. CELIA. Sugar? SMITH. Thanks, yes. MARTIN. (_Has taken up_ CELIA'S _plate and finger-bowl in right hand and now takes_ SMITH'S _plate and finger-bow_.) Old brandy, sir? SMITH. Old brandy! By George, yes! (_Lights cigarette_.) (MARTIN _goes up to small serving table_ R. _of door and puts plates and finger-bowls on tray and gets brandy tray which he brings down to table and pours out one glass, leaving brandy on table. He takes the napkins, goes up, puts them on tray with other things and exits with tray_ R.I.) CELIA. (_While_ MARTIN _is serving_) I asked Martin to serve coffee here, because I thought it would be cosier, you know. (_Having poured_ SMITH'S _coffee, she passes cup to him_.) SMITH. (_Taking cup slowly from her_) Much--much cosier; though, for both of us to-night--(CELIA _fills her cup_)--our one idea of cosiness must be the grave. (CELIA _drops pot on tray_.) CELIA. (_Leans forward, takes cigarette from coffee tray and lights it_) The grave! Then, tell me of it, won't you? Where does it lie? SMITH. (_Openly perplexed, sees_ CELIA _smoking and attempts to use this as a means of extricating himself. Pretending to be shocked_) Oh! the grave! oh---- CELIA. What's the matter? (_Puffs her cigarette_.) SMITH. (_Shrugging his shoulders_) Oh, nothing, nothing. CELIA. Do you object to women smoking? SMITH. I? Not at all. It's companionable, but Smith--(CELIA _chokes on cigarette_)--would Smith have liked to see you smoking a cigarette?