[Charlotte turns, facing him; he takes her other hand, looking long and lovingly into her face.
Char. I can hardly think you're real. But you are here: you have come back to me.
George. And if the time has been long to you, how about me there in the camp?
Char. I try not to think about that part—only of how I love you! That makes up to me for all the rest.
George. We can't think of ourselves in times like these. But I may think of you. You're in my heart each moment of the day and in my dreams at night (He bends over her). My own sweetheart, I wonder if you know or even guess how dear you are to me!
Char. I measure your love with my own for you. That's fair enough, and so I think—I think I know how much you love me.
[George has been leaning tenderly over her as she sits on the bench. He now comes and sits beside her, taking one of her hands in both his own.
George. I want your promise for one thing—one thing that will make me the happiest, proudest man in the world.
Char. What more can I promise you? I've given you myself. What more—