Occasional encouragement from her escort floated disjointedly, and rather with an effect of breathlessness, upon the cold air.
"... Should like to show you our own Highland peat bogs ... our native heath ... us Kelts...."
It was evident that fatigue was playing havoc with the purity of Mr. Garrett's English.
"Iris isn't used to walking," Mark observed rather apologetically, "and you've come a long way."
"I hope she isn't too tired. It was my doing; I love getting out to Salt Marsh."
"I know you do," said Mark gently. "I wish you could get away from Culmouth more often."
Mark was always interested.
Therein, Julian reflected, lay the half of his charm.
"Did Iris come for you to the College this afternoon?"
"No, I called for her on my way out, but she's been up to the College quite often, and wants to learn typewriting. I should like to teach her myself if Mr. Fuller will let me."