"You can't," coldly.
"Why not?"
"I'm going spying."
"Good," he answered cheerfully.
She led out into the night. He followed her.
In the yard she paused again.
"And spying's only for people like me," she continued daintily. "It's not work for the gentry."
They were walking across the Paddock Close now under dim heavens toward the light in the cottage across the way.
"I suppose not," he answered imperturbably. "I'm glad I'm not one."
"Oh, but you are," with quiet insistence. "Your father could have been a peer. You've told us about it many a time."