“I don’t go in for greatest friends.”
“Do you mean you like us all equally?”
“All differently, those of you I like.”
“Ah, you’ve caught it!” cried Mrs. Lewin. “Mr. Elliot gave it you there well.”
Agnes laughed, and, her elbows on the table, regarded them both through her fingers—a habit of hers. Then she said, “Can’t we see the great Mr. Ansell?”
“Oh, let’s. Or would he frighten me?”
“He would frighten you,” said Rickie. “He’s a trifle weird.”
“My good Rickie, if you knew the deathly dullness of Sawston—every one saying the proper thing at the proper time, I so proper, Herbert so proper! Why, weirdness is the one thing I long for! Do arrange something.”
“I’m afraid there’s no opportunity. Ansell goes some vast bicycle ride this afternoon; this evening you’re tied up at the Hall; and tomorrow you go.”
“But there’s breakfast tomorrow,” said Agnes. “Look here, Rickie, bring Mr. Ansell to breakfast with us at Buoys.”