GERALD. Of course not. What about Pamela? Does she know anything?

BOB. She knows that I'm worried about something, but of course she
doesn't know what I've told you.

GERALD. All right, then I won't tell her anything. At least, I'll
just say that bananas remain firm at 127, and that I've got to go
and see my broker about it. (Smiling) Something like that.

(BOB goes towards the garden, while GERALD stops to wait for
PAMELA. At the door he turns round.)

BOB (awkwardly). Er--thanks. [Exit.]

(GERALD throws him a nod, as much as to say, "That's all right." He
stands looking after him, gives a little sigh, laughs and says to
himself, "Poor old Bob!" He is half-sitting on, half-leaning
against the table, thinking it all over, when PAMELA comes in
again.)

PAMELA. I waited for him to go; I knew he wanted to talk to you
about something. Gerald, he is all right, isn't he?

GERALD (taking her hands). Who? Bob? Oh yes, he's all right. So is
Pamela.

PAMELA. Sure?

GERALD. Oh yes, he's all right.