Yes, they are an
untrained crew. Where do we go?
HE. As usual--to the world's end. No, Jakko.
SHE. Have your pony led after you, then. It's a long round.
HE. And for the last time, thank Heaven!
SHE. Do you mean that still? I didn't dare to write to you about it...all
these months.
HE. Mean it! I've been shaping my affairs to that end since Autumn. What makes
you speak as though it had occurred to you for the first time?
SHE. I! Oh! I don't know. I've had long enough to think, too.
HE. And you've changed your mind?
SHE. No. You ought to know that I am a miracle of constancy. What are your--
arrangements?
HE. Ours, Sweetheart, please.
SHE. Ours, be it then. My poor boy, how the prickly heat has marked your
forehead! Have you ever tried sulphate of copper in water?
HE. It'll go away in a day or two up here. The arrangements are simple enough.
Tonga in the early morning--reach Kalka at twelve--Umballa at seven--down,
straight by night train, to Bombay, and then the steamer of the 21st for Rome.
That's my idea. The Continent and Sweden--a ten-week honeymoon.
SHE. Ssh! Don't talk of it in that way. It makes me afraid. Guy, how long have
we two been insane?
HE. Seven months and fourteen days; I forget the odd hours exactly, but I'll
think.
Pages:
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419