DAUGHTER. You still remember it, though it was so long ago?
SINGER. I could have pretended to have forgotten, if it would have
pleased you better.
DAUGHTER (coldly). I? Oh, I am not interested.
SINGER. Well, _I_ didn't start the subject. Perhaps, as neither of
us is interested, I had better withdraw. Since we are to start this
afternoon, I have much to see about. (Bowing) With your permission.
DAUGHTER (stopping him). Don't go. I am sorry. I have been unkind.
SINGER (smiling). Shall we practise that other song? Our voices
agree, if our--our hearts do not.
DAUGHTER (distressed). Oh, don't say that. We must be friends.
SINGER. Only friends?
DAUGHTER (gently). Tell me about her.
SINGER. There is not much to tell, dear. I thought she loved me.
Perhaps that was why I thought I loved her. When I told her, she
pretended to be surprised. I don't think she was surprised. She
was very pretty. (He pauses.)
DAUGHTER. And hard?
SINGER. It is not for me to say anything against her. It is through
her that I came here.
DAUGHTER. When you came here the other day, had you forgotten her?
SINGER (singing). "Oh, let the wench, the wench be whom she will,
so long as I can walk on Morland Hill." Didn't I say so on that
first day?
DAUGHTER. Of course, I know very little of the world, but I do
wonder sometimes if people who sing about the joys of wandering are
really enjoying it all the time.
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