“What charming children!” cried Sylvia, stopping to smile at a group. “Aren’t they sweet? I always think the Italian children have such beautiful eyes. Have you ever noticed it?”
He assured her that he had.
“I like them so much when they don’t come quite close, because, do you know, they are not very clean. Poor little souls, I daresay they can’t help it, though. Oh, please, please send them away!”
“Be off!” cried Wilbraham, coming to the rescue.
Sylvia hurried on till she was breathless.
“I can’t think why they beg so!” she said piteously. “They really frighten one!”
The sweet helpless eyes turned towards him stirred the flame again. He took her hand in his.
“My darling,” he said tenderly, “you mustn’t be frightened when I am by, and they were very little children.”
“They were dreadfully dirty—all rags,” she said.
“When we’re married, Sylvia—”