KATE.  I feel I hardly know you, Dennis.  Did I love you when I married you?  I don’t know.  It was so sudden.  We had no time to find out anything about each other.  And now you come back—­a stranger—­

DENNIS (jerking his head at NORWOOD).  And he’s not a stranger, eh?

KATE (dropping her eyes).  N-no.

DENNIS.  You feel you know all about him?

KATE.  I—­we—­(She is unhappy.)

NORWOOD.  We have discovered that we love each other. (Taking her hands) My darling one, this is distressing for you.  Let me—­

DENNIS (sharply).  It wouldn’t be distressing for her, if you didn’t keep messing her about.  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. Norwood.  Perhaps you hadn’t heard what we’ve been doing these last four years?  Oh, quite a lot of it. . . .  Well?

NORWOOD.  You don’t wish me to believe that you’re serious?

DENNIS.  Perfectly.  Swords, pistols, fists, catch-as-catch-can—­what would you like?

NORWOOD.  I do not propose to indulge in an undignified scuffle for the—­er—­lady of my heart.

DENNIS (cheerfully).  Nothing doing in scuffles, eh?  All right, then, I’ll toss you for her.

NORWOOD.  Now you’re merely being vulgar. (to KATE) My dear—­

(She motions him back with her hand, but does not take her eyes off DENNIS.)

DENNIS.  Really, Mr. Norwood, you’re a little hard to please.  If you don’t like my suggestions, perhaps you will make one of your own.

NORWOOD.  This is obviously a matter in which it is for the—­er—­lady to choose.

DENNIS.  You think Mrs. Camberley should choose between us?