Just tell the folks I'll meet them on the pier.
[Exit ETHEL, looking disappointed.
RALPH (sitting down in a reverie)
A nice girl, Ethel; but, by Jove, it's queer
The way a fellow's stubborn mind will turn
To something that he should forget. That face -
I saw once on a San Francisco street,
How well I do recall the time and place.
'A girl from Honolulu,' some one said.
I wonder where she is now! Married? Dead?
[A silent reverie for a moment. Then speaks again.]
I planned this trip with just one crazy thought -
To look upon that strange girl's face once more.
That is the luny project which has brought
The four of us to this idyllic shore.
[Laughs and lights a cigar.]
My scheme was worked with such consummate care
That mother thinks SHE planned the whole affair.
Then she invited Ethel as her guest.
[Silence for a moment.]
Well, sometimes mothers know just what is best
For wayward sons.
And yet, and yet, and yet,
Why is it one girl's face I can't forget?
Why is it that I feel despondent hearted
In missing that fool hope for which I started?
Four thousand miles is something of a chase
To run to cover one elusive face
And then to FAIL.
[Reverie. A chant is heard outside. The man listens. The chant
ceases and then a maiden slowly approaches calling out her flower
wares, which she carries in a basket; she wears several lais herself,
on hat and neck.
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