Jamie. They'll be along in a minute.
Hilda. I hope so. They will unless Herbert's persuaded her to go hunting for flowers by moonlight. I wouldn't be as crazy over botany as he is for all the degrees the old university gives. [She edges nearer him and, taking his hand in one of hers, draws his arm around her waist. Sighing.] Oh, dear!
Jamie [bringing his face closer to hers]. What is it—angel?
Hilda [with infinite—or, almost infinite, tenderness]. Oh, nothing. I was only thinking about the day; how happy it has been.
Jamie [tenderly]. Has it been, dear?
Hilda [her head against his shoulder]. You know it has—lovely—perfect!
Jamie. What made it?
Hilda. You know what....
Jamie No, I don't; tell me. What?