"Are you going to the Humphreys to-morrow?" he said to Louie.
"If Henrietta's crinoline will leave any room in the carriage," answered Louie, "I shall try to get a little corner, perhaps under the seat, or one could always run behind. I crushed—see, what did I crush?—a little teeny-tiny piece of flounce one terrible evening; didn't I, Henrietta? And I was never allowed to hear the last of it."
She smiled a special smile, only given to the most favoured of her partners. The young man thought how pretty this sisterly teasing was on the part of the lovely Miss Symons; Henrietta saw it in another light.
"My crinolines are not larger than yours, you know they are not."
"Methinks the lady doth protest too much, don't you, Mr. Dockerell?"
"And you always take the best seat in the carriage, so it is nonsense to say ..."
He noticed for the first time how loud her voice was.
"Please let us change the conversation," said Louie gently, "it can't be at all interesting for Mr. Dockerell. I am ready to own anything you like, that you don't wear crinolines at all, if that will please you."
"If there is any difficulty, could not my mother take one of you to-morrow night?" (It was Louie he looked at.) "She is staying with me for a week. Couldn't we call for you? It would be a great pleasure."
"Oh, thank you," began Henrietta.