The girl.  P’raps he’ll say that too.

The man.  Then it’ll be ’im or me.

The girl.  I’m frightened: 

The man. [Tenderly] No, Daisy, no!  The river’s handy.  One more or less.  ’E shan’t ’arm you; nor me neither. [He takes out a knife.]

The girl. [Seizing his hand] Oh, no!  Give it to me, Jim!

The man. [Smiling] No fear! [He puts it away] Shan’t ’ave no need for it like as not.  All right, little Daisy; you can’t be expected to see things like what we do.  What’s life, anyway?  I’ve seen a thousand lives taken in five minutes.  I’ve seen dead men on the wires like flies on a flypaper.  I’ve been as good as dead meself a hundred times.  I’ve killed a dozen men.  It’s nothin’.  He’s safe, if ’e don’t get my blood up.  If he does, nobody’s safe; not ’im, nor anybody else; not even you.  I’m speakin’ sober.

The girl. [Softly] Jim, you won’t go fightin’ in the sun, with the birds all callin’?

The man.  That depends on ‘im.  I’m not lookin’ for it.  Daisy, I love you.  I love your hair.  I love your eyes.  I love you.

The girl.  And I love you, Jim.  I don’t want nothin’ more than you in all the world.

The man.  Amen to that, my dear.  Kiss me close!

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.