DAN (_putting down the Bible_): Carry on.
OLIVIA: Asking questions.
DAN (_catching her eye_): Carry on!
_He studies his outspread hands_.
OLIVIA (_crisply_): Are you sure you were ever a sailor? Are you
sure you weren't a butcher?
_A pause. He looks at her, slowly, then breaks the look abruptly._
DAN (_rising with a smile and standing against the mantelpiece_):
Aw, talkin's daft! _Doin's_ the thing!
OLIVIA: You can talk too.
DAN: Aw, yes! D'you hear me just now? She's right, you know, I should
ha' been a preacher. I remember, when I was a kid, sittin' in Sunday
school--catching my mother's eye where she was sitting by the door,
with the sea behind her; and she pointed to the pulpit, and then to me,
as if to say, that's the place for you.... (_Far away, pensive_) I
never forgot that.
_A pause_.
OLIVIA: I don't believe a word of it.
DAN: Neither do I, but it sounds wonderful. (_Leaning over her,
confidentially_) I never saw my mam, and I never had a dad, and the
first thing I remember is ... Cardiff Docks. And you're the first 'oman
I ever told that, so you can compliment yourself.
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