Muriel.
[Withdrawing it.] Not after to-morrow.
[She sits; he stands behind the stone bench, leaning over the back of it.
But why, may I ask, is this bliss reserved till after to-morrow?
Muriel.
I had rather you did not ask me, Quex.
Quex.
No? I see, I am a day too soon in putting even that little question.
Muriel.