Miss Chent shifted her sunshade from one shoulder to the other. "I expect he'll come down when he is ready," said she calmly.
"Oh Jerusalem! Excuse the swear-word, Miss Chent; but if I were Ned I should have come here ages ago."
"You did, Lord Prelice. But if you are so anxious to interview Ned—and I quite admit the necessity—why not go up to London?"
Her companion wriggled uneasily, and searched his brains for an excuse to remain in his uncomfortable paradise. "Well, you see—er—that is, my dear young lady, I am—to put it plainly—er—my aunt, you know Lady Sophia, is coming to Folkstone."
"She arrived there last night, Lord Prelice."
"Eh—what—you don't—er—you don't say so?"
Mona laughed, and the young man was glad to hear her laugh. She gave way rarely to merriment during the undecided present. "Why did you write about me to Lady Sophia?" asked the girl gently.
"I?" Prelice was quite prepared to lie, but decided not to when he saw the expression of her face.
"Well, you see—that is, you understand—that an aunt is an aunt."
"I never thought that she was an uncle."