OLIVER. Tread carefully, Jill, there are lots of deadly rattlesnakes about.
JILL (stepping hastily back into the boat). Oli-ver!
OLIVER. You hear the noise of their rattles sometimes when the sun is sinking behind the swamp. (The deadly rattle of the rattlesnake is heard) There!
JILL. Oh, Oliver, are they very deadly? Because if they are, I don't think I shall like your island.
OLIVER. Those aren't. I always have their teeth taken out when ladies are coming. Besides, it's daylight now.
(With a rapidity common in the tropics—although it may just be OLIVER'S gallantry—the sun climbs out of the sea, and floods the island, JILL, no longer frightened, steps out of the boat, and they walk up to the clearing in the middle.)
JILL (looking about her). Oh, what a lovely island! I think it's lovely, Oliver.
OLIVER (modestly). It's pretty decent, isn't it? Won't you lie down? I generally lie down here and watch the turtles coming out of the sea to deposit their eggs on the sand.
JILL (lying down). How many do they de-deposit usually, Oliver?
OLIVER. Oh, three—or a hundred. Just depends how hungry I am. Have a bull's-eye, won't you?