"Joan! You aren't being very nice to me. You're fed with me about something."
"Not a bit," I assured him.
Reproachful glance from Captain Markham. "My dear little girl——"
How long was it since I'd thrilled to hear myself called this? Today I found it the wrong expression; I was nearly as tall as he was, after all, I thought. Also I felt rather bored with the turn that the conversation was taking.
No more flirtation for me, thanks.
"My dear little girl, d'you suppose I don't know the difference between this and the jolly chummy times we used to have?" he appealed to me. "You've forgotten the day we went to Hampton Court."
"I have not," said I, looking away. "I remember it perfectly. We came back too late to go to the theatre, and we were so disappointed."
"I don't remember any disappointment," he said softly. "I only remember ... a perfect day."
Of course I too remembered that the day at Hampton Court had been the first time Harry had kissed me. My face flamed with annoyance to think I had permitted this. I rose from the garden-bench. What busy centuries I'd lived through since that morning at breakfast with Elizabeth in our London flat, when the universe had been darkened for me by the news of Harry's going! Now it had come to my turn to want to go. Uncanny in the light of what had been, but true! The familiar figure in khaki and scarlet seemed to me that of a quiet, strange young man to whom I didn't want to talk at all.
I took a step down the grassy path. He followed me, speaking in the ingratiating manner that was second nature to him. I could not help hearing a note of insincerity in his voice now; yes, and a note of odd impatience. It was as if he'd set himself to play some part and were irritated with me because I did not play up to him.