"Gone to console his 'sleepy Venus' for the damage done to her 'Phidian nose,'" she says to Taffy, with rather a bitter laugh.
"Little girls should neither quote Don Juan nor say ill-natured things," replies that youth, with an air of lofty rebuke. But Lilian, not being in the mood for even Taffy's playfulness, makes no answer, and walks away to her beloved garden to seek consolation from the flowers.
Whatever Guy's conference with Florence was about, it was short and decisive, as in five minutes he again emerged from the house, and, looking vainly around him, starts in search of Lilian. Presently, at the end of the long lawn, he sees her.
"Well, has her poor dear nose recovered all its pristine freshness?" she asks him, in a rather reckless tone, as he comes up to her.
"Lilian," says Guy, abruptly, eagerly, taking no notice of this sally,—indeed, scarcely hearing,—"it was all a mistake; I could not speak plainly a moment ago, but I have arranged it all with Florence; and—will you let me drive you to Mrs. Boileau's to-morrow evening?"
"No, thank you," a quick gleam in her large eyes that should have warned him; "I would not make Florence unhappy for the world. Think of her nerves!"
"She will be quite as safe with Cyril—or—your cousin."
"Which cousin?"
"Chesney."