“A brook, my darling, to go on for ever,” he whispered back so earnestly, that Cynthia felt a little thrill of pleasure run through her, and her pretty face became slightly suffused.
“Now you are talking nonsense again,” she said. “Oh. I do wish that dreadful romance would end. Harry, if you speak to me again like that, I shall send you away. Now, sir, why were you frightened? Did I look so fierce and majestic?”
“No: only more beautiful than ever.”
“Harry!”
“Fact. Well, I’ll tell you: Claudine Perry-Morton was by you.”
“Well, what of that, sir?”
“And I felt as if I dared not come near in case of an accident.”
“An accident, Harry! What, to the gas? Oh fie! what a silly old joke; you mean her hair would set it alight.”
“No, I don’t; I don’t mind red hair. After yours, it’s the prettiest there is.”
“Don’t stoop to compliments, sir. Now tell me why you were afraid of an accident?”