“No.”
“Well, then, you have a treat. The most beautiful thing in England is the Thames—perhaps in the world. Last year I spent nearly three months at Marlow and Maidenhead—we positively lived in a boat. I have a beautiful boat. I should like to take you out—you would enjoy it. Are you fond of boating?”
“I love it. I haven't been in a boat since I left Wales.”
“So you are a Welsh girl. My boat is now at Reading. If you could get away early in the morning we might manage to catch the nine o'clock express that takes us down in a little over the hour. I'd have the hamper packed, and we would have our lunch up in Pangbourne Woods. It would be so jolly. I wish you would come.”
“I should like it immensely; I don't know if I could manage it.”
“Do you say you will come, do.”
Lizzie stood hesitating, her finger on her lip. A girl entered the bar and whispered something to her as she passed.
“I must go away now, I'm off duty.”
“Say you will come.”
“I can't say yet; I shall see you again.”