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 amus.e.m.e.nt_.)
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.