Harry.  What?  That I would go?  You just try and see.

Bessie (Disregarding him).  Don’t you care for anyone?  Didn’t you ever want anyone in the world to care for you?

Harry.  In the world! (Boastful.) There’s hardly a place you can go in the world where you wouldn’t find somebody that did care for Harry Hagberd. (Pause.) I’m not of the sort that go about skulking under false names.

Bessie.  Somebody—­that means a woman.

Harry.  Well!  And if it did.

Bessie (Unsteadily).  Oh, I see how it is.  You get round them with your soft speeches, your promises, and then...

Harry (Violently).  Never!

Bessie (Startled, steps back).  Ah—­you never. . .

Harry (Calm).  Never yet told a lie to a woman.

Bessie.  What lie?

Harry.  Why, the lie that comes glib to a man’s tongue.  None of that for me.  I leave the sneaking off to them soft-spoken chaps you’re thinking of.  No!  If you love me you take me.  And if you take me—­why, then, the capstan-song of deep-water ships is sure to settle it all some fine day.

Bessie (After a short pause, with effort).  It’s like your ships, then.

Harry (Amused).  Exactly, up to now.  Or else I wouldn’t be here in a silly fix.

Bessie (Assumed indifference).  Perhaps it’s because you’ve never yet
met------- (Voice fails.)

Harry (Negligently).  Maybe.  And perhaps never shall....  What’s the odds?  It’s the looking for a thing....  No matter.  I love them all—­ships and women.  The scrapes they got me into, and the scrapes they got me out of—­my word!  I say, Miss Bessie, what are you thinking of?

Bessie (Lifts her head).  That you are supposed never to tell a lie.

Harry.  Never, eh?  You wouldn’t be that hard on a chap.

Bessie (Recklessly).  Never to a woman, I mean.

Harry.  Well, no. (Serious.) Never anything that matters. (Aside.) I don’t seem to get any nearer to my railway fare. (Leans wearily against the lamppost with a far-off look.  B. looks at him.)

Bessie.  Now what are you thinking of?

Harry (Turns his head; stares at B.).  Well, I was thinking what a fine figure of a girl you are.

Bessie (Looks away a moment).  Is that true, or is it only one of them that don’t matter?

Harry (Laughing a little).  No! no!  That’s true.  Haven’t you ever been told that before?  The men...

Bessie.  I hardly speak to a soul from year’s end to year’s end.  Father’s blind.  He don’t like strangers, and he can’t bear to think of me out of his call.  Nobody comes near us much.

Harry (Absent-minded).  Blind—­ah! of course.

Bessie.  For years and years . . .