Spread. That I admired you—loved you?
Jen. Most assuredly! Surely you’ve not forgotten it. (He drops her hand.) I haven’t.
Spread. I remember that I had the impertinence to be very fond of you. I forgot that I had the impertinence to tell you so. I remember it now. I made a fool of myself. I remember it by that. I told you that I adored you, didn’t I?—that you were as essential to me as the air I breathed—that it was impossible to support existence without you—that your name should be the most hallowed of earthly words, and so forth. Ha, ha! my dear Jane, before I’d been a week on board I was saying the same thing to a middle-aged governess whose name has entirely escaped me. (She has exhibited signs of pleasure during the earlier part of this speech, and disappointment at the last two lines.) What fools we make of ourselves!
Jen. And of others!
Spread. Oh, I meant it, Jane; I meant every word I said to you.
Jen. And the governess?
Spread. And the governess! I would have married you, Jane.
Jen. And the governess?
Spread. And the governess! I’d have married her, if she had accepted me—but she didn’t. Perhaps it was as well—she was a widow with five children—I cursed my destiny at the time, but I’ve forgiven it since. I talked of blowing out my brains. I’m glad I didn’t do it, as I’ve found them useful in my profession. Ha! ha! (Looking round; Jenny stands watching him.) The place has changed a good deal since my time—improved—improved—we’ve all three improved. I don’t quite like this tree, though—it’s in the way. What is it? A kind of beech, isn’t it?
Jen. No, it’s a sycamore.