“I fell down,” said Peter. “I might have hurt myself, but I didn’t. I wish you weren’t so wonderful.”
“I can’t help that,” said she. “You should have thought of it before.”
Peter began drying his toes.
“I’ve had quite a long talk with my father,” he said, “and all about you. He thinks you’re wonderful, too. He adores you: they all adore you, particularly Lord Poole.”
“Peter, don’t be tipsy,” said she.
“I shall be as tipsy as I like. I want to know one thing. Why weren’t you annoyed with me for saying that I couldn’t get back last night?”
Silvia held out the pearls for him to clasp round her neck.
“If you don’t understand that, you must be tipsy,” she said.
“And if I do?” he asked.
She leaned her head a little back.