The sound of a voice singing breaks in on their embrace.  The girl starts from his arms, and looks behind her along the towing-path.  The man draws back against, the hedge, fingering his side, where the knife is hidden.  The song comes nearer.

                   “I’ll be right there to-night,
                    Where the fields are snowy white;
                    Banjos ringing, darkies singing,
                    All the world seems bright.”

The girl.  It’s him!

The man.  Don’t get the wind up, Daisy.  I’m here!

[The singing stops.  A man’s voice says “Christ!  It’s Daisy; it’s little Daisy ’erself!” The girl stands rigid.  The figure of a soldier appears on the other side of the stile.  His cap is tucked into his belt, his hair is bright in the sunshine; he is lean, wasted, brown, and laughing.]

Soldier.  Daisy!  Daisy!  Hallo, old pretty girl!

     [The girl does not move, barring the way, as it were.]

The girl.  Hallo, Jack! [Softly] I got things to tell you!

Soldier.  What sort o’ things, this lovely day?  Why, I got things that’d take me years to tell.  Have you missed me, Daisy?

The girl.  You been so long.

Soldier.  So I ’ave.  My Gawd!  It’s a way they ’ave in the Army.  I said when I got out of it I’d laugh.  Like as the sun itself I used to think of you, Daisy, when the trumps was comin’ over, and the wind was up.  D’you remember that last night in the wood?  “Come back and marry me quick, Jack.”  Well, here I am—­got me pass to heaven.  No more fightin’, no more drillin’, no more sleepin’ rough.  We can get married now, Daisy.  We can live soft an’ ’appy.  Give us a kiss, my dear.

The girl. [Drawing back] No.

Soldier. [Blankly] Why not?

     [The man, with a swift movement steps along the hedge to the
     girl’s side.]

The man.  That’s why, soldier.

Soldier. [Leaping over the stile] ’Oo are you, Pompey?  The sun don’t shine in your inside, do it?  ’Oo is he, Daisy?

The girl.  My man.

Soldier.  Your-man!  Lummy!  “Taffy was a Welshman, Taffy was a thief!” Well, mate!  So you’ve been through it, too.  I’m laughin’ this mornin’ as luck will ’ave it.  Ah!  I can see your knife.

The man. [Who has half drawn his knife] Don’t laugh at me, I tell you.

Soldier.  Not at you, not at you. [He looks from one to the other] I’m laughin’ at things in general.  Where did you get it, mate?

The man. [Watchfully] Through the lung.

Soldier.  Think o’ that!  An’ I never was touched.  Four years an’ never was touched.  An’ so you’ve come an’ took my girl!  Nothin’ doin’!  Ha! [Again he looks from one to the other-then away] Well!  The world’s before me! [He laughs] I’ll give you Daisy for a lung protector.