Cecil [nods]. No brains.
Evelyn. You see, I always refused him.
Cecil. Exactly. And he always went on loving you. What more could the silly fellow want?
Evelyn [shyly, looking up at him]. He wanted me to accept him, I suppose.
[The bird chatter dies away.]
Cecil. Ah!... Reggie ought to read Keats's "Ode to a Grecian Urn."... I say, what jolly eyes you've got! I noticed them the moment we met here in the wood. That was why I spoke to you.
Evelyn [demurely]. I thought it was to ask your way back to the inn.
Cecil. That was an excuse. I knew the way as well as you did. I'd only just come from there. But when I saw you with the sunshine on your pretty soft hair and lighting up your pretty soft eyes, I said I must speak to her. And I did. Are you glad I spoke to you?
Evelyn. Yes.
Cecil. Glad and glad?