CECIL. But you said it after me. [_Gently and gravely._] Eve, dear, don't be silly. Let's be in love while we can. Youth is the time to be in love, isn't it? Soon you and I will be dull and stupid and middle-aged like all the other tedious people. And then it will be too late. Youth passes so quickly. Don't let's waste a second of it. They say the May-fly only lives for one day. He is born in the morning. All the afternoon he flutters over the river in the sunshine, dodging the trout and flirting with other May-flies. And at evening he dies. Think of the poor May-fly who happens to be born on a wet day! The tragedy of it! EVELYN [_softly_]. Poor May-fly. CECIL. There! You're sorry for the May-fly, you see. You're only angry with me. EVELYN. Because you're not a May-fly. CECIL. Yes, I am. A sort of May-fly. EVELYN [_with suspicion of tears in her voice_]. You aren't. How can you be? Besides, you said you were a cuckoo just now. CECIL. I suppose I'm a cuckoo-May-fly. For I _hate_ wet days. And if you're going to cry again, it might just as well be wet, mightn't it? So do dry your eyes like a good girl. Let me do it for you. [_Does it with her handkerchief._] [_She laughs ruefully._] There, that's better. And now we're going to be good children again, aren't we? CECIL [_holding out hand_]. And you'll kiss and be friends? EVELYN. I'll be friends, of course. [_Sadly._] But you must never kiss me again. CECIL. What a shame! Why not? EVELYN. Because you mustn't. CECIL [_cheerfully_]. Well, you'll sit down again anyhow, won't you? just to show we've made it up. [_Moves towards tree._] EVELYN [_shakes head_]. No. CECIL [_disappointed; turns_]. A.... Then you haven't really made it up. EVELYN. Yes, I have. [_Picks up her hat._] But I must go now. Reggie's coming down by the five o'clock train, and I want to be at the station to meet him. [_Holds out hand._] Good-by, Mr. Harburton. CECIL [_taking hand_]. Eve! You're going to accept Reggie! [_Pause._] EVELYN [_half to herself_]. I wonder. CECIL. And he'll have to tell your mother? EVELYN. Of course. CECIL [_drops her hand_]. Poor Reggie! So _his_ romance ends too! EVELYN. It won't! If I marry Reggie I shall make him very happy. CECIL. Very likely. Marriage may be happiness, but I'm hanged if it's romance! EVELYN. Oh! [_Exclamation of impatience._] [_She turns away and exits R._] [_Cecil watches her departure with a smile half-amused, half-pained, till she is long out of sight. Then with half a sigh turns back to his tree._] CECIL [_re-seating himself_]. Poor Reggie! [_Re-opens his book and settles himself to read again._] [_A cuckoo hoots loudly from a distant thicket and is answered by another. Cecil looks up from his book to listen as the curtain falls._] [_Curtain._] THE JUDGMENT OF INDRA A PLAY BY DHAN GOPAL MUKERJI Copyright, 1920, by Stewart & Kidd Company. All rights reserved.