Once beggared of ideas, I and they
Would saunter arm in arm the selfsame way— [Breaking off.
But Lind! why, what’s the matter with you, pray?
You sit there dumb and dreaming—I suspect you’re
Deep in the mysteries of architecture.
Lind [collecting himself].
I? What should make you think so?
Falk.
I observe.
Your eyes are glued to the verandah yonder—