"You're very kind," she said quietly.
"Not at all," said I, with a glance downward. "The small bright shoe is on the other exquisite—er—foot. It's very good of you to let me walk with you, especially in view of my recent scandalous behaviour all among the baths."
"Which reminds me, you were awful. I thought I should die, when you asked that poor man—"
"A wholesome thirst for knowledge, my dear. Talking of which, d'you know it's getting on for half-past one?"
"Is it really?"
"It is, indeed. Time tears away sometimes, doesn't he?"
"Sometimes."
"You are sweet," said I. "However. About Time. He's a mocker of men, you know: very contrary. When he can serve, not he. When he cannot, he is willing enough. Beg him to hasten, he'll cock his hat and stroll with an air of leisure that makes us dance. Cry him to tarry, he is already gone, the wind panting behind him. Bid him return, he is at once all sympathy—grave sympathy: 'He may not. Otherwise he would have been so pleased... Sorry. Rather like my brother-in-law. You'll meet him at White Ladies."
"Is that where the bath's going?"
"Certainly. We shall be there in the spring. Will you come to our bath-warming?"