We steamed into Singapore and I showed her the old _Boldero_, that was to be our home, laid against the Copra Wharf, waiting to be turned into an ark. The animals weren't all collected and we had a day or two to chase about and enjoy ourselves; but she wasn't for expensive pleasures.
"Wait," she said, "till you're a little tired of me; but now, when we're happy just to be together walking in the dust, what's the use of disbursing?"
"If we save till I'm tired of you," says I, "we'll be rich."
"Rich it is, then," said she, "for those who will need it more."
"But," says I, "the dictionary says that a skunk is a man that economizes on his honey-moon."
"If you're bound to blow yourself," says she, "let's trot down to the Hongkong-Shanghai Bank and buy some shares in something."
"But," says I, "you have no engagement ring."
"And I'm not engaged," says she. "I'm a married woman."
"My husband's arm around my waist is my ring," says she; "his heart is my jewel."
Even if it had been broad daylight and people looking, I'd have put her ring on her at that. But it was dark, in a park of trees and benches--just like Central Park.
"With this ring," says I, "I thee guard from all evil."
"But there is no evil," said she. "The world's all new; it's been given a fresh start. There's no evil. The apple's back on the tree of knowledge. Eden's come back--and it's spring in Eden."
"And among other items," says I, "that we've invoiced for Sydney is a python thirty feet long."
A girl sat against one of the stems of a banyan, and a Tommy lay on his back with his head in her lap. She was playing with his hair. You could just see them for the dark.
"'And they lived on the square like a true married pair,'" says I.
"Can't people be naughty and good?" says she.
"Suppose," says she, "you and I felt about each other the way we do, but you were married to a rich widow in Lisbon and I was married to a wicked old Jew in Malta--would that make you Satan and me Jezebel?"
"No," says I; "only me. Nothing could change you." She thought a little.
"No," says she; "I don't think anything could. But there isn't any wicked old Jew. You know that."
"What about her?" This said sharp, with a tug at my arm to unwrap it.
"She was born in Singapore," said I, "of a silly goose by an idle thought. And two minutes later she died."