"I think we have had enough of Mrs. Roope. You haven't half admired my frock. I have a great mind not to wear my new teagown tonight. I should resent it being ignored. We ought to go out again until dinner, the afternoon is lovely. I can't sit on the beach in this, but I need only slip on an old skirt. Shall I put on another skirt? Do you feel in the humour for the beach? I've a thousand questions to ask you. I seem to have been down here by myself for an age. I have actually started a book! What do you say to that? I want to tell you about it. What has been decided about the door-plates? What did the parents say when they heard I'd fled?"
"I didn't see them until the next day."
"Had they recovered?"
"They were resigned. I promised to bring you back with me on Monday."
"And now you don't want to?"
"How can you say that?"
"Did I say it? My mood is frivolous, you mustn't take me too seriously. The beach. . . you haven't answered about the beach. Perhaps you'd rather walk. I don't mind adventuring this skirt if we walk."
"You are not too tired?"
Something had come between them, some summer cloud or thunderstorm. Try as they would