Hilda. Maybe.
Jamie [irrelevantly]. Jove! What a magnificent night this is!
Hilda. Isn't it? And see how round the moon is—it's perfectly lovely.
Jamie. Dearest!
Hilda. What?
Jamie. I love you.
Hilda [pressing his arm]. Sweetheart!
Jamie. I do. [Hilda murmurs incoherently.]
Tired of scurrying, the silent moon shines down upon these two of all the world, regardless. They lapse into silence—he holding one of her hands—and gaze at the pale orb of night floating up the sky. A couple turn the corner, south of the house. The young man is tall and angular. He wears huge spectacles. His face is thin and wan, very like that of the girl beside him. Indeed, they have many physical characteristics in common. She, too, wears spectacles. Her mouth is straight, her complexion cloudy, but her eyes give evidence of an active brain behind them. He carries a luncheon basket awkwardly. At the corner they stop and he turns away as she lifts her dark cloth overskirt, and searches for her pocket. The quill, riding her curled-brimmed straw-hat at an angle of danger, sways impatiently.
Herbert [calmly]. Something appears to annoy you—have you——