Bessie. I'm afraid you've a hard heart. (_Remains thoughtful_.)

Harry. What for? For running away? (_Indignant_.) Why, he wanted to make
a blamed lawyer's clerk of me.

(_From here this scene goes on mainly near and about the street lamp_.)

Bessie (_Rousing herself_). What are you? A sailor?

Harry. Anything you like. (_Proudly_.) Sailor enough to be worth my salt
on board any craft that swims the seas.

Bessie. He will never, never believe it. He mustn't be contradicted.

Harry. Always liked to have his own way. And you've been encouraging
him.

Bessie (_Earnestly_). No!--not in everything--not really!

Harry (_Vexed laugh_). What about that pretty tomorrow notion? I've a
hungry chum in London--waiting for me.

Bessie (_Defending herself_). Why should I make the poor old friendless
man miserable? I thought you were far away. I thought you were dead. I
didn't know but you had never been born. I... I... (_Harry turns to her.
She desperately_.) It was easier to believe it myself. (_Carried away_.)
And after all it's true. It's come to pass. This is the to-morrow we've
been waiting for.