Harry. I was the very image of him in face from a boy--(_Eats_)--and
that's about as far as it goes. He was always one of your domestic
characters. He looked sick when he had to go to sea for a fortnight's
trip. (_Laughs_.) He was all for house and home.

Bessie. And you? Have you never wished for a home? (_Goes off with empty
plate and puts it down hastily on Carvil's bench--out of sight_.)

Harry (_Left in front_). Home! If I found myself shut up in what the
old man calls a home, I would kick it down about my ears on the third
day--or else go to bed and die before the week was out. Die in a
house--ough!

Bessie (_Returning; stops and speaks from garden railing_). And where is
it that you would wish to die?

Harry. In the bush, in the sea, on some blamed mountain-top for choice.
No such luck, tho', I suppose.

Bessie (_From distance_). Would that be luck? Harry. Yes! For them that
make the whole world their home.

Bessie (_Comes forward shyly_). The world's a cold home--they say.

Harry (_A little gloomy_). So it is. When a man's done for.

Bessie. You see! (_Taunting_). And a ship's not so very big after all.

Harry. No. But the sea is great. And then what of the ship! You love her
and leave her, Miss--Bessie's your name--isn't it?... I like that name.