Ralph
Some one has said, ‘Love goes where it is sent.’
Ethel (sadly)
I think that true; one can not guide its bent.
But I must go; and will you come along?
Your mother said to bring you.
Ralph
Not quite yet;
I’ll wait until that bird completes its song;
The last I’ll hear, till many a sun has set.
Just tell the folks I’ll meet them on the pier.
[Exit Ethel, looking disappointed.
Ralph (sitting down in a reverie)
A nice girl, Ethel; but, by Jove, it’s queer
The way a fellow’s stubborn mind will turn
To something that he should forget. That face—
I saw once on a San Francisco street,
How well I do recall the time and place.
‘A girl from Honolulu,’ some one said.
I wonder where she is now! Married? Dead?
[A silent reverie for a moment. Then speaks again.]