"An afternoon as well," she said, "If my recollection of the size of a certain packet neatly labelled 'Unanswered' is at all correct."
"Shouldn't make a packet of unanswered letters," said Lindfield. "I burn them. Then you can start afresh."
CHAPTER XV.
The next hour or two had fairly fulfilled the breakfast plans. Daisy, after the tiger accident to her parasol at the Zoo, had fallen back, for country use anyhow, on an immense scarlet contadina umbrella, and had planted herself and this under the elm-tree as soon as breakfast was over. Almost immediately after Lord Lindfield had followed her, with not quite so rigid an interpretation of idleness as Daisy, for she had brought absolutely nothing with her to occupy her hands or her mind, whereas he had a daily paper.
"Not a word or a sigh or a sneeze, Miss Daisy," he said, in a whisper, "or we shall be discovered. Not brought anything whatever with you? That's right. Just you yourself."
"You forget my parasol," said Daisy, "and it really isn't an insignificant affair."
"I know it isn't. I don't like it. It hides too much of you."
Daisy laughed.
"I suppose that means I have to put it down," she said.
"Well, I think it would be kind of you," he said. "You've been hiding yourself too much lately to my mind."