Aren’t you going to wish me a good voyage—or don’t you think that necessary?
Kneir.
My head is queer. I’m coming to the harbor. Yes, I’m coming——
Jo.
I’m sorry for her, the poor thing.
Geert.
He’s a hound, that fellow!
Jo.
Where’s your sou’wester? Hope it isn’t mislaid. You gave him a talking to, didn’t you? It was drunken Simon that set him going. Now don’t look so solemn. Here it is. [Picks a geranium from a flower pot.] There! And you keep it on, so. [On his knee.] And you will think of me every night, will you? Will you? [Springing up.] What, are you back so soon?
Kneir.