But where the fun would be in Love if he
You played with had not heart to jump, nor blood
To tingle, nothing in him to go wild
At seeing you betray your love for him,
Beats me to understand. You'ld be as wise
Blowing the bellows at a pile of stone
As loving one that never lived for you.
It isn't just to make a wind you blow,
But to turn red fire into white quivering heat.
Whatever she's after, 'tis not love, my girl:
I know what love is. But perhaps she saw
The poor lad living? Even had speech with him?

_Katrina_.
Not she; Mary has never known a lad
I did not know as well. We've shared our lives
As if we had been sisters, and I'm sure
She's never been in love before.

_Jean_.
Before?
Don't talk such sentimental nonsense--

_Katrina_.
Why,
If Love-at-first-sight can mean anything,
Surely 'tis this: there's some one in the world
Whom, if you come across him, you must love,
And you could no more pass his face unmoved
Than the year could go backwards. Well, suppose