You were--afraid--of a scene?
_Oberville_. I was a damned coward, Isabel. That's about the size of it.
_Isabel_. Ah--I had thought it so much larger!
_Oberville_. What did you say?
_Isabel. I said that you have forgotten to drink your tea. It must be
quite cold.
_Oberville_. Ah--
_Isabel_. Let me give you another cup.
_Oberville (collecting himself)_. No--no. This is perfect.
_Isabel_. You haven't tasted it.
_Oberville (falling into her mood) _. You always made it to perfection.
Only you never gave me enough sugar.
_Isabel_. I know better now. (_She puts another lump in his cup_.)
_Oberville (drinks his tea, and then says, with an air of reproach)_.
Isn't all this chaff rather a waste of time between two old friends who
haven't met for so many years?
_Isabel (lightly)_. Oh, it's only a _hors d'oeuvre_--the tuning of the
instruments. I'm out of practise too.
_Oberville_. Let us come to the grand air, then. (_Sits down near her_.)
Tell me about yourself. What are you doing?
_Isabel_. At this moment? You'll never guess. I'm trying to remember you.
_Oberville_. To remember me?
_Isabel_. Until you came into the room just now my recollection of you was
so vivid; you were a living whole in my thoughts. Now I am engaged in
gathering up the fragments--in laboriously reconstructing you....
_Oberville_. I have changed so much, then?
_Isabel_. No, I don't believe that you've changed.
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