Spread. No. (Releasing it—much cast down.) I was going to ask you to do me a great favour, and I thought I could ask it better if I had hold of your hand. I was going to ask you if you would give me a flower—any flower, I don’t care what it is.
Jen. (affecting surprise). A flower? Why, of course I will. But why?
Spread. (earnestly). That I may have a token of you and of our parting wherever I go; that I may possess an emblem of you that I shall never—never part with, that I can carry about with me night and day wherever I go, throughout my whole life.
Jen. (apparently much affected, crosses slowly, stoops and takes up large geranium in pot). Will this be too big?
Spread. (disconcerted). But I mean a flower—only a flower.
Jen. Oh, but do have a bunch! Wilcox shall pick you a beauty.
Spread. No, no; I want you to pick it for me. I don’t care what it is—a daisy will do—if you pick it for me!
Jen. What an odd notion! (Crossing to flower-stand, and picking a piece of mignonette—he puts down flower-pot by bed.) There! (picking a flower and giving it to him) will that do?
Spread. I can’t tell you how inestimably I shall prize this flower. I will keep it while I live, and whatever good fortune may be in store for me, nothing can ever be so precious in my eyes.