Bessie (Thoughtfully).  I could talk him over in a week.. . .

Harry (Negligently).  I dare say you could. (Joking.) I don’t know but what I could make shift to wait if you only promise to talk to me now and then.  I’ve grown quite fond of your voice.  I like a right woman’s voice.

Bessie (Averted head).  Quite fond! (Sharply.) Talk!  Nonsense!  Much you’d care. (Businesslike.) Of course I would have to sometimes.... (Thoughtful again.) Yes.  In a week—­if—­if only I knew you would try to get on with him afterwards.

Harry (Leaning against lamp-post; growls through his teeth).  More humouring.  Ah! well, no! (Hums significantly)

     Oh, oh, oh, Rio, . . . 
     And fare thee well
     My bonnie young girl,
     We’re bound for Rio Grande.

Bessie (Shivering).  What’s this?

Harry.  Why!  The chorus of an up-anchor tune.  Kiss and go.  A deep-water ship’s good-bye....  You are cold.  Here’s that thing of yours I’ve picked up and forgot there on my arm.  Turn round a bit.  So. (Wraps her up—­commanding.) Hold the ends together in front.

Bessie (Softly).  A week is not so very long.

Harry (Begins violently).  You think that I-------

(Stops with sidelong look at her.) I can’t dodge about in ditches and live on air and water.  Can I?  I haven’t any money—­you know.

Bessie.  He’s been scraping and saving up for years.  All he has is for you, and perhaps...

Harry (Interrupts).  Yes.  If I come to sit on it like a blamed toad in a hole.  Thank you.

Bessie (Angrily).  What did you come for, then?

Harry (Promptly).  For five quid—­(Pause.)—­after a jolly good spree.

Bessie (Scathingly).  You and that—­that—­chum of yours have been drinking.

Harry (Laughs).  Don’t fly out, Miss Bessie—­dear.  Ginger’s not a bad little chap.  Can’t take care of himself, tho’.  Blind three days. (Serious.) Don’t think I am given that way.  Nothing and nobody can get over me unless I like.  I can be as steady as a rock.

Bessie (Murmurs).  Oh!  I don’t think you are bad.

Harry (Approvingly).  You’re right there. (Impulsive.) Ask the girls
all over-------(Checks himself.) Ginger, he’s long-headed, too, in
his way—­mind you.  He sees the paper this morning, and says he to me,
‘Hallo!  Look at that, Harry—­loving parent—­that’s five quid, sure.’  So
we scraped all our pockets for the fare....

Bessie (Unbelieving).  You came here for that.

Harry (Surprised).  What else would I want here?  Five quid isn’t much to ask for—­once in sixteen years. (Through his teeth with a sidelong look at B.) And now I am ready to go—­for my fare.

Bessie (Clasping her hands).  Whoever heard a man talk like this before!  I can’t believe you mean it?