OCEANA. I had trained myself... for just that. We had made ourselves what you might call soul-exercises; little ceremonies to remind ourselves of things we wished to hold by. The Sunrise Dance was one of those. And then, on the last day of each month, at sunset, we would sit and watch the shadows fade, and contemplate death. [She pauses, gravely.] We would say to ourselves that we, too, were shadows ... rainbows in the sea-mist; that we held our life as a gift... we carried it in our hands, ready to give it up when we heard the call. [A pause.]
HENRY. [Opens door centre and enters. Sees OCEANA and halts.] Oh!
OCEANA. [Turns and sees him.] Why! Here's a man! [They gaze at each other, transfixed.] Ethel! Who is he?
ETHEL. Why, this is Henry. Letitia's husband.
OCEANA. Oh! Letitia's husband! [With a sudden, frank gesture, putting out her hand.] Henry!
HENRY. Oceana!
[As their hands meet, they stand looking into each other's faces.]
OCEANA. [Gripping his hand tightly.] You are strong! [Looks at his hand.] And you do not smoke, either! Let me see your eyes.
HENRY. [Perplexed.] My eyes?
OCEANA. Your eyes. [Turns him toward the light; studies his eyes.] They dosed you with quinine! Malaria, I suppose?