"Really!" She tossed back the curls the stiff breeze had blown across her eyes.
"Really!" he echoed, in a tone of mockery. "Miss Bright, pardon me, but you—" He paused.
"Well?" she said. "What about you?"
"You look altogether charming."
She stopped. He walked on.
"You are perfectly incorrigible," she called. "Unless you promise to talk sense, I'll not go a step further with you."
He turned.
"Sense?" he said with mock seriousness, "that's what I have been talking when in your society all these weeks past. And here you make me play second fiddle to Jack Harding, Wathemah and Bobbie."
"And you prefer to be first fiddle?"
"Of course!"