outdone altogether.
[_Pocketing her gift, he goes to the cabinet on the right and unlocks
it. She watches him from the middle of the room. Presently he comes to
her, carrying a little ring-case._] Take off your glove--[_pointing to
her left hand_] that one. [_She removes her glove tremulously. He takes
a ring from the case, tosses the case on to the writing-table, and
slips the ring on her third finger._] By George, I'm in luck; blessed
if it doesn't fit!

[_She surveys the ring in silence for a while; then she
puts her arms round his neck and hides her face on his
breast._

OTTOLINE.

[_Almost inaudibly._] Oh, Phil!

PHILIP.

[_Tenderly._] And so this is the end of the journey, Otto!

OTTOLINE.

[_In a whisper._] The end?

PHILIP.

The dreary journey in opposite directions you and I set out upon nearly
eleven years ago in Paris.

OTTOLINE.

[_Quivering._] Ah----!

PHILIP.

My dear, what does it matter as long as our roads meet at last, and
meet where there are clear pools to bathe our vagabond feet and
sunshine to heal our sore bodies! [_She raises her head and rummages
for her handkerchief._] Otto----!

OTTOLINE.

Yes?

PHILIP.

In April--eh----?

OTTOLINE.

[_Drying her eyes._] April----?

PHILIP.

You haven't forgotten the compact we entered into at Robbie Roope's?

OTTOLINE.

[_Brightening._] Ah, no!

PHILIP.

In April we walk under the chestnut-trees once more in the
Champs-Elysees----!

OTTOLINE.

[_Smiling through her tears._] And the Allee de Longchamp----!

PHILIP.

As husband and wife--we shall be an old married couple by then----!

OTTOLINE.

[_Pulling on her glove._] And drink milk at the d'Armenonville----!

PHILIP.

And the Pre-Catelan----!

OTTOLINE.

And we'll make pilgrimages, Phil----!

PHILIP.

Yes, we'll gaze up at the windows of my gloomy lodgings in the Rue
Soufflot--what