THE FELLOW: (Lifting his hat.) I never knew why I was on earth until I met you. (Waving glove at her.) Say, this is your glove—you know it's your glove.
THE GIRL: (Laughingly.) It must belong to somebody else.
THE FELLOW: No, it doesn't. I saw you drop it. Besides, you are wearing only one glove, and this one matches it.
THE GIRL: (Stopping on right of stage near rustic bench and turning to face him, holding out her hand.) You are right. It is my glove. I'll take it, please.
THE FELLOW: (Stopping to gaze at her admiringly.) No, on second thought, I'll keep it. (He folds it up tenderly, and places it in the upper left-hand pocket of his coat.) I'll keep it right here, too,—near my heart.
THE GIRL: Oh, what nonsense! You've never seen me but three times in your life.
THE FELLOW: (Coming nearer her.) Yes—that's true. And you look better every time I see you. Say, you do look awfully nice this morning. Nobody would think, from your appearance, that you belonged to a camping party here on the shore of Lake George. I guess that thunder storm last night didn't bother you a little bit. Why, you look as if you were out for a stroll on Fifth Avenue.
THE GIRL: (Aside.) Little does he know that I got caught in that shower and am now wearing my chum, Genevieve's, gown. (To him.) What a jollier you are! You look pretty natty yourself this morning, it seems to me.
THE FELLOW: (Aside.) This suit of clothes I got from Tommy Higgins has made a hit with her. I guess I'll just let her think they belong to me, and won't tell her that I got soaked in the rain last night. (To her, lifting his hat again.) I'm tickled nearly to death to have you say such complimentary things to me. It makes me glad I came on this camping trip.
THE GIRL: You belong to the camping party flying the flag of the skull and cross-bones, don't you?