QUEX. [_Humouring her._] This romantic old garden! [_pointing to the statuary_] these silent witnesses--beholders, it is likely, of many similar scenes! the--the--setting sun! Could any situation be more appropriate? DUCHESS. But we are liable to be interrupted at any moment. The joint romance of our lives, Harry, ought not to end with a curt word and formal hand-shake in an exposed spot of this kind. [_Sitting in the garden chair._] Oh, it cannot, must not, end so! QUEX. [_Eyeing her uneasily._] Frankly, I see nothing else for it. DUCHESS. I can't credit it. Why, what was the second reason for my coming here? QUEX. Second reason? DUCHESS. That our parting might be in keeping with our great attachment! QUEX. Impossible. DUCHESS. Impracticable? QUEX. In every way, impossible. DUCHESS. [_Taking his hand._] Oh, don't say that, dear Harry! Ah, the auguries tell me that what I ask will be. QUEX. [_Omitting, in his anxiety, to withdraw his hand._] The auguries? DUCHESS. Fate--coincidence--call it what you please--foreshadows one more meeting between us. QUEX. Coincidence? DUCHESS. [_Intensely, in a low voice._] Harry, do you remember a particular evening at Stockholm? QUEX. [_Hazily._] Stockholm? DUCHESS. That evening upon which we discovered how much our society meant to each other! QUEX. [_Vaguely, while he hastily recovers possession of his hand._] At Stockholm was it--? DUCHESS. You were sailing with us in the Baltic--you must recollect? Our yacht had put in at Stockholm; we had come to the Grand Hotel. Strood had retired, and you and I were sitting out upon the balcony watching the lights of the café on the Norrbro and the tiny steamboats that stole to and fro across the harbour. Surely you recollect? QUEX. Yes, yes, of course. DUCHESS. Well, do you remember the brand of the champagne you sipped while you and I sat smoking? QUEX. Good lord, no! DUCHESS. "Félix Poubelle, Carte d'Or." You remarked that it was a brand unknown to you. Have you ever met it since, Harry? QUEX. Not that I-- DUCHESS. Nor I till last night, at dinner. [_Impressively._] It is in this very house. QUEX. [_With a slight shrug of the shoulders._] Extremely probable. DUCHESS. And do you remember how I was clad, that evening at Stockholm? QUEX. I am afraid I don't. DUCHESS. _Couleur de rose garnie de vert_. I have just such another garment with me. QUEX. Really? DUCHESS. Do you remember in what month we were at Stockholm? QUEX. No. DUCHESS. June--this month. Nor the day of the week? QUEX. It must be ten years ago! DUCHESS. Wednesday. There stands the record in my diary. QUEX. Diary! good heavens, you are not so indiscreet--! DUCHESS. No, no--only the words, "warm evening." Yes, it was upon a Wednesday. What is to-day? QUEX. Wednesday. DUCHESS. [_Rising._] Harry, I want to see you sipping that brand of champagne once more, while you and I sit facing one another, silently, dreamily smoking Argyropulos.