"No; he might not have gone mooning around then. He might have paid more attention to you."
Violet glanced at the speaker out of the tail of her eye and ate a chocolate. Then she cast a look over on the point where the easel stood. "He is so good-looking," she sighed. "I like smooth-faced men."
"My mustache is catching it next, is it?" said Edgar irritably, twisting that treasure.
"Oh, I simply despise mustaches," rejoined Violet equably; "but of course if it makes you look older, or more dignified, or helps you in your career, you have to wear one."
"I don't know as there's any 'have to' about it," returned Edgar. "It's just a matter of taste with me"; he made the addition with a superior carelessness.
"So it is with me," returned Violet with engaging frankness. "Here's another peppermint." She picked it up in the silver tongs. "Open your mouth and shut your eyes and I'll give you something to make you wise."
Edgar jerked back his head, seized the confection in his fingers, and scaled it across the rocks.
"I loathe peppermint," he said shortly, "and as for making me wise, you're making me wiser every day. Will you, or will you not give me a lesson in clogging this afternoon?"
"I will!" returned Violet, dramatically. "You paid partly in advance last night, and I'm the soul of honor!"