Alexanra—No.
Agi—No? Well, then it was before that . . . when I spoke of the poetry of hopelessness.
Alexandra—No.
Hyacinth—Well, what was it he said that touched you so?
Alexandra—[To Hyacinth.] He said: "Lad."
Hyacinth—Lad? [She nods.] What did he say "lad" for?
Alexandra—He said he wasn't a lad any more to believe in fairy tales.
Hyacinth—Oh, that was it?
Alexandra—[Smiles happily as if in a dream.] You know . . . I had always known the word, but I had never heard it spoken before. We say "boy," don't we?. . . And he, poor fellow, said "lad," with such a quaint lilt to it . . . so sweetly . . . I knew at once it was what they used to call him at home . . . what his family calls him to this very day. . . . And . . . I don't know why . . . but suddenly it seemed as if I, too, had been there . . . in the village where they called him "lad" . . . I saw the tiny, spotless cottages with acacia trees around them . . . and his mother . . . and his sister . . . who called him "lad" . . . and loved him, and were proud of him. . . . That was why. [There is a brief pause.]
