Why the devil can't you sit on a chair by
yourself?
NORWOOD (indignantly). Really!
KATE (freeing herself from him, and moving to the extreme end of the
sofa). What are you going to do, Dennis?
DENNIS (looking at them thoughtfully, his chin on his hand). I don't
know. . . . It's difficult. I don't want to do anything melodramatic. I
mean (to KATE) it wouldn't really help matters if I did shoot him,
would it?
(KATE looks at him without saying anything, trying to understand this
new man who has come into her life. NORWOOD swallows, and tries very
hard to say something)
NORWOOD. I--I--
DENNIS (turning to him). You_ don't think so, do you?
NORWOOD. I--I--
DENNIS. No, I'm quite sure you're right. It wouldn't really help. It
is difficult, isn't it? You see (to KATE) _you_ love _him_--(he waits
a moment for her to say it if she will, but she only looks at
him)--and _he_ says _he_ loves _you_, but at the same time I _am_ your
husband. . . . (He walks up and down thoughtfully, and then says suddenly
to NORWOOD) I'll tell you what--I'll fight you for her.
NORWOOD (trying to be firm). I think we'd better leave this
eighteenth-century nonsense out of it.
DENNIS (pleasantly). They fight in the twentieth century, too, Mr.
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