The
Continent
and Sweden--a ten-week
honeymoon.
honeymoon.
Kipling - Poems
SHE. No. You ought to know that I am a miracle of constancy. What are
your--arrangements?
HE. Ours, Sweetheart, please.
SHE. Ours, be it then. My poor boy, how the prickly heat has marked your
forehead! Have you ever tried sulphate of copper in water?
HE. It'll go away in a day or two up here. The arrangements are simple
enough. Tonga in the early morning--reach Kalka at twelve--Umballa at
seven--down, straight by night train, to Bombay, and then the steamer of
the 21st for Rome. That's my idea.
The Continent and Sweden--a ten-week
honeymoon.
SHE. Ssh! Don't talk of it in that way. It makes me afraid. Guy, how
long have we two been insane?
HE. Seven months and fourteen days; I forget the odd hours exactly, but
I'll think.
SHE. I only wanted to see if you remembered. Who are those two on the
Blessington Road?
HE. Eabrey and the Penner woman. What do they matter to us? Tell me
everything that you've been doing and saying and thinking.
SHE.
