Tom gave it up.
"There was no one else," he pleaded.
"Well," retorted Adela, "when there is anyone else, you never come near them."
The grammar was confused, but Adela could not improve it, without being landed in unbearable plainness of speech.
"Don't I?" he asked. "Why, I come and see you."
"Oh, for twenty minutes once a month; just to keep the acquaintance open, I suppose. It's like shutting all the gates on Ascension Day (isn't it Ascension Day?), only the other way round, you know."
"You so often quarrel with me," said Tom.
"What nonsense!" said Adela. "Anyhow, I won't quarrel here."
Tom glanced at her. She was looking bright and happy and young. He liked her even better here in Dieppe than in a London drawing-room. Her conversation was not so elaborate, but it was more spontaneous and, to his mind, pleasanter. Moreover, the sea air had put colour in her cheeks and painted her complexion afresh. The thought strayed through Tom's mind that she was looking quite handsome. It was the one good thing that he did not always think about her. He went on studying her till she suddenly turned and caught him.
"Well," she asked, with a laugh and a blush, "do I wear well?"