Joe: It is so always, Betsy, when friends suddenly come to know each other. All other days sink to unreality like the memory of snow upon a day of August. We wonder how the flowering meadows were once a field of white. Our past selves, Betsy, walk apart from us and, although we know their trick of attitude and the fashion of their clothes, they are not ourselves. For friendship, when it grips the heart, rewinds the fibres of our being. Do you remember, dear, how you ran in fright when you first saw me clambering up these rocks?
Betsy: I was sent to call the Duke to dinner and carried a bell to ring it on the cliff. I was afraid when a stranger's head appeared upon the path.
Joe: Yet, when I spoke, you stopped.
Betsy: At the first word I knew I need n't be afraid. And you took my hand to help me up the slope. You asked my name, and told me yours was Joe. Then we came together to this cabin. And each day I have been with you. Two weeks only.
Joe: I shall be gone, Betsy, in a little while.
Betsy: Gone?
Joe: I am not, my dear, the master of myself. We must forget these days together.
Betsy: Joe!
Joe: May be I shall return. Fate is captain. The future shows so vaguely in the mist. Listen! It is the Duke.
(In the distance the Duke is heard singing the pirates' song.)