"Mine isn't a crowned head," protested Juliet.
He looked at her searchingly. "Have you never been to Court?"
She snapped her fingers airily. "Of course! Dozens of times! Poor companions always go to Court. How often do you go!"
"As often as you admit me to your most gracious presence," he said.
She clapped her hands softly. "Why, that is even prettier than the stale fish one! Mr. Green, what can have happened to you?"
"I daren't tell you," he said.
A sudden silence fell upon the words. Juliet puffed the smoke from her cigarette, and watched it rise. "Well, don't spoil it, will you?" she said, as it vanished into air.
Green's hand suddenly gripped a handful of shingle and ground it forcibly. He did not speak for a second or two. Then: "No, I won't spoil it," he said, in a low voice.
A moment later he flung the stones abruptly from him and got up.
"You're not going?" said Juliet.