Just  fancy  you  and  I  being  so  silly  after  having  known
each  other  all  these  years  !

Jack.     It  isn't  being  silly — it's  being  wise.
Mabel.  We  never  dreamed  of  this  sort  of  thing  in
London.  What's  happened?  Both  of  us  .seem  to  be  two
people  now,  wlien  we  meet  with  other  people  about

Jack,  (bending  over  her,  interrupts  softly)  There's  no
fun  in  that !

Mabel.  I  know  thei'e  isn't  now.  that's  the  funny  part,
everything's  so  changed — but — but — when  we're  quite
alone — and — and — together  like  this — it  all  gets  so — so
<;urious — it  gets — gets  as  if  it  were  dizzy — doesn't  it  ?  You
-<lon't  seem  to  be  a  bit  like  you.  You  don't  seem  to  be  a
bit  like  anybody  real — you're  just  a — a— oli  !  I  can't  ex-
plain— and  I  seem  to  be — a — oh  !  not  myself  a  bit — or — no


:>>  THE  WILDERNESS.
o-


— yes — I  am  myself.  I'm  part  of  myself — but  the  part  of
me  tliat  I  know  and  everybody  else  knows  seems  far  away.
It's  awfully  curious.     I — I  wonder  why  I  came  'i

Jack.     Because  you  couldn't  help  it.
Mabel.     I  won't  come  any  more  !

Jack.    Yes,  you  will !

Mabel.     No,  I  won't !

Jack.     I  love  you,  Mabel !

Mabel.  Do  you?  {a  lo')ig pmise)  I  don't  love  you— at
least,  I  don't  think  I  do.  No,  I'm  quite  sure  I  don't — be-
cause, when  I  think  you  over,  somehow  it  strikes  me  that
you're  quite  ordinary,  and  if  I  loved  you.  you  couldn't  be
ordinary,  could  you"?  (then  she  lireatcfi  off,  and  says  in  a.
