Julia. O John, you’re a sad, ill-natured man, and you misjudge me very unkindly. But I’ll not bear malice if you will just run in and tell your master that I want a word with him.
John. A word? Why not say fifty? When was a maid ever satisfied with one word I’d like to know?
Julia. Well—I shan’t say more than six, very likely, so fetch him to me now, John, and I’ll wait here in the garden. [John looks at her with exasperated contempt. Then he slowly walks away towards the house. Julia goes in the opposite direction to the garden gate.
Julia. [Calling.] Chris! [Chris comes in.
Julia. [Pointing.] O Chris, look at this fine garden—and yon arbour—see the fine house, with lace curtains to the windows of it.
Chris. [Sullenly.] Ah—I sees it all very well.
Julia. And all this could be mine for the stretching out of a hand.
Chris. Then stretch it.
Julia. ’Twould be like putting a wild bird into a gilded cage, to set me here in this place. No, I must go free with you, Chris—and we will wander where our spirits lead us—over all the world if we have a mind to do so.
Chris. Please God you’ll not grieve at your choice.