Nora.
Oh! Well—but that wouldn’t be a free gift of a man. You would get me in exchange.
Varlie.
Didn’t I say I might get more than its value back for my gift?
(Meanwhile Roto is sitting on the ground not far from Loveday, finishing Varlie’s cigar, and playing with a carved jade curio. Between the puffs of the cigar, and under his breath, he hums snatches of the following song:
[Roto.
He roa te wa ki Tipirere
He tino mamao,
He roa te wa ki Tipirere,
Ki taku kotiro.
E noho pikatiri,
Hei kona rehita koea,
He mamao rawa Tipirere
Ka tae ahua.])
Nora.
Then that’s no bargain for me!