“You don’t; you really and truly don’t;” said Miss Inderwick, who was looking provokingly pretty in a fur jacket and a fur toque; “if you loved me you wouldn’t waste your time as you do.”
“Waste my time. Why not, when I am on a holiday?”
“I don’t mean that sort of waste, you horrid boy. But you know that you are always in town and I am always here, so when you are down for a few days, you should be with me constantly.”
“I should very much like to, my dearest spitfire, but would it be wise when your uncle discourages my attentions to you so pointedly?”
“Oh!” Marie raised her eyebrows and pouted again. “If you are afraid of Uncle Ran there is no more to be said.”
“There is a great deal more to be said,” retorted Alan, tucking her arm under his own, “and we can say it on our way to The Monastery. When the cat’s away at Lewes, we two dear little mice can play at Belstone. Marie, darling, don’t make faces; we must be sensible.”
“I am sensible; you have said dozens of times that I am the most sensible girl in the whole world.”
“So you are. All the same we must be diplomatic in case your uncle——”
“Bother my uncle.”
“I think you do, my dear,” said Alan dryly, “and just now you are bothering me by being cross about nothing. Marie, if you don’t smile in your usual angelic way, I shall kiss you here in the open road, Smile, smile!”