SIMON. It doesn’t matter, I had made a mistake. Tell me, what was there particular about that place in the Hebrides? MARY ROSE. Oh, the fishing for father. But there was an island where I often-- My little island! SIMON (_perhaps quite unnecessarily_). What are you listening for, Mary Rose? MARY ROSE. Was I? I don’t hear anything. Oh, my dear, my dear, I should love to show you the tree-trunk and the rowan-tree where I used to sketch while father was in the boat. I expect he used to land me on the island because it was such a safe place. SIMON (_troubled_). That had been the idea. I am not going to spend my honeymoon by the sea, though. And yet I should like to go to the Hebrides--some day--to see that island. MARY ROSE. Yes, let’s. (_She darts off through the little door for her jacket._) ACT II ACT II _An island in the Outer Hebrides. A hundred yards away, across the loch at the back, may be seen the greater island of which this might be but a stone cast into the sea by some giant hand: perhaps an evil stone which the big island had to spew forth but could not sink. It is fair to look upon to-day, all its menace hidden under mosses of various hues that are a bath to the eye; an island placid as a cow grazing or a sulky lady asleep. The sun which has left the bleak hills beyond is playing hide and seek on it--one suddenly has the curious fancy to ask, with whom? A blessed spot it might be thought, rather than sinister, were there not those two trees, a fir and a rowan, their arms outstretched for ever southward, as if they had been struck while in full flight and could no longer pray to their gods to carry them away from this island. A young Highlander, a Cameron, passes in a boat at the back. Mary Rose and Simon come into view on the island. We have already heard them swishing a way through whins and bracken that are unseen. They are dressed as English people dress in Scotland. They have been married for four years and are still the gay young creatures of their engagement day. Their talk is the happy nonsense that leaves no ripple unless the unexpected happens._ MARY ROSE (_thrilled_). I think, I think, I don’t think at all, I am quite sure. This is the place. Simon, kiss me, kiss me quick. You promised to kiss me quick when we found the place. SIMON (_obeying_). I am not the man to break my word. At the same time, Mary Rose, I would point out to you that this is the third spot you have picked out as being the place, and three times have I kissed you quick on that understanding. This can’t go on, you know. As for your wonderful island, it turns out to be about the size of the Round Pond. MARY ROSE. I always said it was little like myself.