I was never ill
before. Am I ill now?
CAPT. G. You--you aren't quite well.
VOICE. How funny! Have I been ill long?
CAPT. G. Some days; but you'll be all right in a little time.
VOICE. Do you think so, Pip? I don't feel well and--Oh! what _have_
they done to my hair?
CAPT. G. I d-d-don't know.
VOICE. They've cut it off. What a shame!
CAPT. G. It must have been to make your head cooler.
VOICE. 'Just like a boy's wig. Don't I look horrid?
CAPT. G. Never looked prettier in your life, dear. (_Aside._) How
am I to ask her to say good-bye?
VOICE. I don't _feel_ pretty. I feel very ill. My heart won't work.
It's nearly dead inside me, and there's a funny feeling in my eyes.
Everything seems the same distance--you and the almirah and the
table--inside my eyes or miles away. What does it mean, Pip?
CAPT. G. You're a little feverish, Sweetheart--very feverish. (_Breaking
down._) My love! my love! How can I let you go?
VOICE. I thought so. Why didn't you tell me that at first?
CAPT. G. What?
VOICE. That I am going to--die.
CAPT. G. But you aren't! You shan't.
AYAH _to punkah-coolie_.
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