Harry (Left in front). Home! If I found myself shut up in what the old man calls a home, I would kick it down about my ears on the third day—or else go to bed and die before the week was out. Die in a house—ough!
Bessie (Returning; stops and speaks from garden railing). And where is it that you would wish to die?
Harry. In the bush, in the sea, on some blamed mountain-top for choice. No such luck, tho', I suppose.
Bessie (From distance). Would that be luck? Harry. Yes! For them that make the whole world their home.
Bessie (Comes forward shyly). The world's a cold home—they say.
Harry (A little gloomy). So it is. When a man's done for.
Bessie. You see! (Taunting). And a ship's not so very big after all.
Harry. No. But the sea is great. And then what of the ship! You love her and leave her, Miss—Bessie's your name—isn't it?... I like that name.
Bessie. You like my name! I wonder you remembered it.... That's why, I suppose.
Harry (Slight swagger in voice). What's the odds! As long as a fellow has lived. And a voyage isn't a marriage—as we sailors say.