OLIVE: [huskily] No. No, ’course it doesn’t.

She abandons herself to the certainty of the moment and his passionate kiss. BARNEY returns from his errand to the kitchen area, hustling in with an army jerry can.

BARNEY: Kerosene. Emma had it stored with her black market loot.

ROO: Righto. On your mark, then.

He releases OLIVE, dalliance at an end.

Shove the stuff in one big heap out there, and soak it, top to bottom.

BARNEY: [again the army game] Yes, sir; yes, sir. Bonfire detachment on the way, sir.

BARNEY dives out through the French windows, leaving them open behind him, as ROO busies himself collecting the two army overcoats and other handy items of military clothing.

OLIVE: [watching in bewilderment] Bonfire? What’s he mean by bonfire?

As ROO throws his clothing into the backyard:

You’re not goin’ to burn your uniform?

ROO: Uniform, equipment, bootlaces—the whole damn shooting match.

He is already gathering up the rest of the scattered army equipment.

OLIVE: But why? You’ve got your discharge—said yourself, it’s over—why?

ROO: Because I’m free to do it. Put a match to all that bull, and know from now on I can live my own life. How I want to—

Pitching the last items out through the French windows:

—my choice. Where I go, what I do, and who it is I do it with.

In the midst of this whirlwind, he remembers:

’N’ it’s not only me that needs to get the shackles off. All of us. There’s never gunna be a better time to tell you. Somethin’ that you should’ve heard a while back.

He hustles OLIVE to a nearby chair.

Nancy’s got it in her head she’s had enough. She wants us all to sit down and to mull things over.

OLIVE: [confused] Nancy?

ROO: The lay-offs and the four of us together. Barney swears she’s got her eye on someone else, another bloke, and wants to make a break for it.

OLIVE sinks down to the chair.

Well, that may be just Barney. But yes or no, it doesn’t matter.

He squats before her, to make a determined case.

Thing is that she’s got the right to make up her own mind. Same as we have. And she wants to go, no matter why, it’s no use arguin’ and bellyachin’. Her decision, and the best that we can do, Ol, is to wish her luck.

He places a clumsy hand over hers in lieu of any other comfort. NANCY appears at the French windows, and ROO rises to greet her.

Come on in, she knows. I’ve told her. Sort out all our options. Well, tonight I know what mine are—say goodbye to five years nothin’. Look at this, will you—?

He has registered the banner over the archway.

—good old blood and bandages. Help to give the rest of it a decent send-off—