You had plenty of people to say that; Bob was different. I
think I was the first person he really talked to about himself.
That was before I met you. I begged him then to get out of it--
little knowing. I wonder if it would have made any difference if
you had gone up with him on--Oh, well, it doesn't matter now.
GERALD (defensively). What were you going to say?
PAMELA. Nothing. (Looking at him thoughtfully) Poor Gerald! it's
been bad for you too.
GERALD. You're not making it better by suggesting that I've let Bob
down in some way--I don't quite know how.
PAMELA (in distress). Oh, Gerald, don't be angry with me--I don't
want to hurt you. But I can only think of Bob now. You're so--you
want so little; Bob wants so much. Why doesn't he come? I sent a
note round to his rooms to say that I'd be here. Doesn't he have
lunch here? Oh, Gerald, suppose the case is over, and they've taken
him to prison, and I've never said good-bye to him. He said it
wouldn't be over till this evening, but how would he know? Oh, I
can't bear it if they've taken him away, and his only friend never
said good-bye to him.
GERALD. Pamela, Pamela, don't be so silly. It's all right, dear; of
course I'm not angry with you. And of course Bob will be here. I
rang up Wentworth an hour ago, and he said the case can't end till
this evening.
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