Ruth. Oh no, years and years ago.
Fred. What do you think of yourself?
Ruth. It is a delicate question to answer, but I think I am a fine woman.
Fred. That is your candid opinion?
Ruth. Yes, I should be deceiving you if I told you otherwise.
Fred. Thank you, Ruth; I believe you, for I am sure you would not practise on my inexperience. I wish to do the right thing, and if—I say if—you are really a fine woman, your age shall be no obstacle to our union. (Shakes hands with her. Chorus of Girls heard in the distance, “Climbing over rocky mountain” etc. See entrance of Girls.) Hark! Surely I hear voices! Who has ventured to approach our all but inaccessible lair? Can it be Custom House? No, it does not sound like Custom House.
Ruth (aside). Confusion! it is the voices of young girls! If he should see them I am lost.
Fred. (climbing rocky arch and looking off). By all that’s marvellous, a bevy of beautiful maidens!
Ruth (aside). Lost! lost! lost!
Fred. How lovely! how surpassingly lovely is the plainest of them! What grace! what delicacy! what refinement! And Ruth—Ruth told me she was beautiful!