She shook her head. He showed a place at his side. "Sit here if you feel—"
"Oh, but I like to feel dizzy. That's the great difference between you and me." Her laugh was gone in a second. With her eye on the receding wave she asked hurriedly, "Where are you going for your holiday?"
His plans were dependent on other people, he said.
"You make me wonder what 'other people' you've got. How little I know about you." She tumbled the sentences out.
"Well, come to that, how little I know about you."
"There isn't anything I'm not willing to tell you—if—if you cared to know." She spoke more gently, even with a touch of wistfulness. "You British are so reticent!" He didn't deny the charge. He felt her eyes on his face, as she said, "I have an idea you wouldn't be—if you once got started."
He laughed out again at that shot. "The only safe way then," he said, "is not to get started."
"Oh, do get started!" She said it with a touch of roguery lightening her new seriousness. "I should so like to see you indiscreet for once."
Deliberately Napier didn't look at her again, till the danger-point was safely rounded by her saying, "Greta thinks you're going to Scotland."
"Oh, does she?" He looked at her straight enough now. "And does she tell you why?"