Hargrave. I remember it all now, Jane—the fields that we wandered together—and the Convolvulus, that little white flower that we picked and loved.
Jane. Recite that about the lilies of the field, and the birds of the sky, will you, Peter? It was always my favorite.
Hargrave. I didn't suppose you knew so much about the Bible, Jane.
Jane. I know something of birds, Peter.
Hargrave. You have always been my Convolvulus, Jane. Can you believe that?
Jane. It's a funny thing, Peter, but in love one never doubts, and the loved one never tells the truth.
Hargrave (suddenly). How beautiful you are, Jane! You look just as you did in the days of old—with your little hands and feet.
Jane (jumping up and covering them). Oh, my feet have grown, Peter.
Hargrave. I remember, Jane; in the olden days you would do anything but marry me.
Jane. Now that is the only thing I will do for you. (Puts chair between them.)