"So I could; at least you and I could do it together."
Paul could not help feeling flattered, though he tried his hardest not. "I should describe what I have suffered at the hands of an undermined jelly," he said. "Don't you know the horrid, insinuating way the thing has of curtsying to you; and—when you respond to its inviting attitude—of flinging itself bodily upon your neck, and burying yourself and it in the common ruins?"
Isabel laughed with delight. "I know exactly. And another evil and bitter thing is helping oneself to strawberries."
"When they are in a pyramid, you mean?" said Paul.
"Yes; and the strawberry at the apex of the pyramid suffers from suicidal tendencies; and is prone to hurl itself from its giddy height to perdition, if you so much as breathe."
Paul laughed.
"And its path to destruction," added Miss Carnaby, "leaves a lurid, crimson stain right across the hostess's tablecloth."
"Like Tennyson's 'Maud,'" said Paul, "when
Her feet had touched the meadows,
And left the daisies rosy."
Isabel smiled. "What an apt quotation!"