Her tones are cooing.
"I have won, at all events!" says Tita, jumping in over the window-sill. "Though Mr. Gower," glancing back at her companion, "won't acknowledge it."
"Why should I acknowledge it?" says the stout young man. "It's folly to acknowledge anything."
"But the truth is the truth!" says the girl, facing him.
"Oh, no; on the contrary, it's generally a lie," says he.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," says Miss Bolton, turning her back on him, which proceeding seems to fill the stout young man's soul with delight.
"Do come and sit down, dear child; you look exhausted," says Lady
Rylton, still cooing.
"I'm not," says Tita, shaking her head. "Tennis is not so very exhausting—is it, Mrs. Bethune?"
"I don't know, I'm sure. It seems to have exhausted your hair, at all events," says Mrs. Bethune, with her quick smile. "I think you had better go upstairs and settle it; it is very untidy."
"Is it? Is it?" says Tita.