_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. It’s only that I see you differently. Don’t you know how hard it is to convince elderly people that the type of the evening paper is no smaller than when they were young? _Oberville_. I’ve shrunk then? _Isabel_. You couldn’t have grown bigger. Oh, I’m serious now; you needn’t prepare a smile. For years you were the tallest object on my horizon. I used to climb to the thought of you, as people who live in a flat country mount the church steeple for a view. It’s wonderful how much I used to see from there! And the air was so strong and pure! _Oberville_. And now? _Isabel_. Now I can fancy how delightful it must be to sit next to you at dinner. _Oberville_. You’re unmerciful. Have I said anything to offend you? _Isabel_. Of course not. How absurd! _Oberville_. I lost my head a little--I forgot how long it is since we have met. When I saw you I forgot everything except what you had once been to me. (_She is silent_.) I thought you too generous to resent that. Perhaps I have overtaxed your generosity. (_A pause_.) Shall I confess it? When I first saw you I thought for a moment that you had remembered--as I had. You see I can only excuse myself by saying something inexcusable. _Isabel (deliberately)_. Not inexcusable. _Oberville_. Not--? _Isabel_. I had remembered. _Oberville_. Isabel! _Isabel_. But now-- _Oberville_. Ah, give me a moment before you unsay it! _Isabel_. I don’t mean to unsay it. There’s no use in repealing an obsolete law. That’s the pity of it! You say you lost me ten years ago. (_A pause_.) I never lost you till now. _Oberville_. Now?