Lucy. No, but—And—and till when did you want to put off our—our marriage? Until your return?
Harold. Well, that would depend on circumstances. You don't suppose I would postpone it for a second, if I could help it; but—Until my return? I hope sincerely that it can be managed then, but, you see, over there I shall be spending money all the time, and not earning a sou, and—and so we might have to wait a little bit longer, just until I could replenish the locker, until I had published and been paid for my new book.
Lucy. But I have given notice to leave at midsummer.
Harold. Has Mrs. Duncan got another governess!
Lucy. No, but——
Harold. Then you can stop on, can't you! They will surely be only too delighted to keep you.
Lucy. Yes—I can stop on. [He tries to kiss her.] No, don't; not now.
Harold. And you don't really mind the postponement very much, do you?
Lucy. Not if it will assist you.
Harold. I thought you would say that, I knew you would. It will assist me very much. I shouldn't otherwise suggest it. It does seem too bad though, doesn't it? To have to postpone it after waiting all these years, and just as it was so near, too. I have a good mind not to go, after all—only, if I let this chance slip, I may never have another. Besides, six months is not so very long, is it? And when they are over, then we won't wait any longer. You will come and see me off, won't you? It would never do for an engaged man to go away for even six months, without his lady love coming to see him start.