Mahasu. They say that those birds live for ever so long.

MRS. G. How long?

CAPT. G. A hundred and twenty years.

MRS. G. A hundred and twenty years! O-oh! And in a hundred
and twenty years where will these two sensible people be?

CAPT. G. What does it matter so long as we are together now?

MRS. G. (Looking round the horizon.) Yes. Only you and I-I and
you-in the whole wide, wide world until the end. (Sees the line of
the Snows.) How big and quiet the hills look! D'you think they care
for us?

CAPT. G. 'Can't say I've consulted em particularly. I care, and
that's enough for me.

MRS. G. (Drawing nearer to him.) Yes, now-but afterward.
What's that little black blur on the Snows?

CAPT. G. A snowstorm, forty miles away. You'll see it move, as
the wind carries it across the face of that spur and then it will be
all gone.

MRS. G. And then it will be all gone. (Shivers.)

CAPT. G. (Anriously.) 'Not chilled, pet, are you? 'Better let me
get your cloak.