's on purpose. Look' [JOY looks; he
looks at her.] But it 's not so beautiful as you.

JOY. [Bending her head.] You mustn't. I don't know--what's coming?

DICK. [Sidling closer.] Are n't your knees tired, darling? I--I
can't get near you properly.

JOY. [With a sob.] Oh! Dick, you are a funny--comfort!

DICK. We'll stick together, Joy, always; nothing'll matter then.

[They struggle to their feet-the waltz sounds louder.]

You're missing it all! I can't bear you to miss the dancing. It
seems so queer! Couldn't we? Just a little turn?

JOY. No, no?

DICK. Oh! try!

[He takes her gently by the waist, she shrinks back.]

JOY. [Brokenly.] No-no! Oh! Dick-to-morrow 'll be so awful.

DICK. To-morrow shan't hurt you, Joy; nothing shall ever hurt you
again.

[She looks at him, and her face changes; suddenly she buries it
against his shoulder.]

[They stand so just a moment in the moon light; then turning to the
river move slowly out of sight. Again the hollow tree is left alone.
The music of the waltz has stopped. The voices of MISS BEECH and the
COLONEL are heard approaching from the house. They appear in the
opening of the wall. The COLONEL carries a pair of field glasses
with which to look at the Moon.]

COLONEL. Charming to see Molly dance with Lever, their steps go so
well together! I can always tell when a woman's enjoying herself,
Peachey.

MISS BEECH. [Sharply.] Can you? You're very clever.

COLONEL. Wonderful, that moon! I'm going to have a look at her!
Splendid glasses these, Peachy [he screws them out], not a better
pair in England. I remember in Burmah with these glasses I used to
be able to tell a man from a woman at two miles and a quarter. And
that's no joke, I can tell you. [But on his way to the moon, he has
taken a survey of the earth to the right along the river. In a low
but excited voice] I say, I say--is it one of the maids--the
baggage! Why! It's Dick! By George, she's got her hair down,
Peachey! It's Joy!

[MISS BEECH goes to look. He makes as though to hand the
glasses to her, but puts them to his own eyes instead--
excitedly.]

It is! What about her headache? By George, they're kissing. I say,
Peachey! I shall have to tell Nell!

MISS BEECH. Are you sure they're kissing? Well, that's some
comfort.

COLONEL. They're at the stile now. Oughtn't I to stop them, eh?
[He stands on tiptoe.] We