Bessie (_Assumed indifference_). Perhaps it's because you've never yet
met------- (_Voice fails_.)

Harry (_Negligently_). Maybe. And perhaps never shall.... What's the
odds? It's the looking for a thing.... No matter. I love them all--ships
and women. The scrapes they got me into, and the scrapes they got me out
of--my word! I say, Miss Bessie, what are you thinking of?

Bessie (_Lifts her head_). That you are supposed never to tell a lie.

Harry. Never, eh? You wouldn't be that hard on a chap.

Bessie (_Recklessly_). Never to a woman, I mean.

Harry. Well, no. (_Serious_.) Never anything that matters. (_Aside_.) I
don't seem to get any nearer to my railway fare. (_Leans wearily against
the lamppost with a far-off look. B. looks at him_.)

Bessie. Now what are _you_ thinking of?

Harry (_Turns his head; stares at B_.). Well, I was thinking what a fine
figure of a girl you are.

Bessie (_Looks away a moment_). Is that true, or is it only one of them
that don't matter?

Harry (_Laughing a little_). No! no! That's true. Haven't you ever been
told that before? The men...

Bessie. I hardly speak to a soul from year's end to year's end. Father's