"Thanks awfully. But you're wrong about my hair."
"Is it never unruly?"
"Only by day. I wish to goodness I could wear it down."
"So do I. Then we could all sit on it when the grass was wet. At the moment there's a particularly beautiful tress caressing your left shoulder. And I think you ought to know that the wind is kissing it quite openly. It's all very embarrassing. I hope I shan't catch it," I added cheerfully.
Miss Deriot made a supreme effort to look severe.
"If you do," she said uncertainly, "I shall drive straight into the horse-pond."
"'Sh!" said I reprovingly. "You oughtn't to jest about such things. You might catch it yourself. Easily." Here we passed the horse-pond. "You know you'll never be able to look fierce so long as you have that dimple. You'll have to fill it up or something. I suppose it's full of dew every morning now."
Without a word Agatha slowed down, turned up a by-road, and stopped. Then she proceeded to back the car.
"What on earth is she doing?" said I.
She turned a glowing face to mine.