_] Done with.
[_He walks away._
DUCHESS.
[_Moving slowly._] That is--almost over.
QUEX.
[_Turning sharply._] Almost?
DUCHESS.
We have yet to say good-bye, you know.
QUEX.
[_Returning to her, apprehensively._] We--we have said good-bye.
DUCHESS.
Ah, no, no!
QUEX.
[_Again bowing over her hand--with simulated feeling._] Good-bye.
DUCHESS.
[_Looking round._] What! _here_?
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.
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