'Why, what a jolly hat!' she exclaimed. 'You may not know it, but that would just suit me; it would go with my dress, too.'
'Fancy.'
She took off her own hat, and touched up her hair with her fingers, and tried on the other. Under it her eyes brightened in front of the glass; her colour rose; she changed as one looked at her—she was sixteen again—the child he had first met at the Art School.
'Don't you think it suits me?' she said, turning round.
'Yes, I think you look very charming in it. Shall I put it back?'
There was a pause.
'I sha'n't know what on earth to do with it,' he said discontentedly. 'It's so silly having a hat about in a place like this. Of course you wouldn't dare to keep it, I suppose? It does suit you all right, you know; it would be awfully kind of you.'
'What a funny person you are, Vincy. I should like to keep it. What could I tell Aunt Jessie?'
'Ah, well, you see, that's where it is! I suppose it wouldn't do for you to tell her the truth.'
'What do you mean by the truth?'