"All right. This way," and he turned towards a little shrubby avenue, leading from the flower-garden. "It will be quiet."
"We always did like tête-à-tête rambles, didn't we?" She felt perfectly happy. Ned to herself was all she wanted. Dear old Ned! He was just the same as ever.
"Did we?" absently. "I don't remember."
"Why—of course we did. It wasn't half so much fun if there was a third person."
"One doesn't always want a third person, certainly!" Ned spoke with feeling.
"That's just what I meant."
"Was it?" questioned Ned internally. "Well—" he said aloud. "You wanted to talk about something."
"But you had something to say first."
"Place aux dames! Mine must wait. Presently I'll ask you to do something for me. Yours shall be the first innings."
Nothing loth, Magda started off with one of her accustomed outpourings. She had, as she said, "no end" of things to enlarge upon—books she had read, people she had seen, things she had done, plans she meant to carry out. She was always sure of Ned's interest and sympathy; and it never occurred to her that he might grow tired of listening. But, as she flowed on, it dawned upon her that she had not his undivided attention. He twice said "No," when he ought to have said "Yes;" and when she put a leading question as to a certain subject, which she had fully explained, his silence spoke for itself.