“They saw her in the library. I shall certainly ask Alice for an explanation,” Miss Lomas said.
Reggie put the Hottentot Venus in his pocket and smiled at her. “I’m sure you’re much too wise. Let’s say nothing till we can say something sensible. I should like to see Alice. Just ‘for to admire’, you know.”
“The girls will be in the playing-field now.”
“Delightful. Suppose you walk me through. Treat me as if I was intendin’ to be a parent.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Miss Lomas, with emphasis.
“Oh, I mean a fond father comin’ to see if it was all nice enough for my darlin’ daughter. Don’t let Alice think I’m interested in her.”
“Very well, Mr. Fortune.” Miss Lomas went off for her hat.
The playing-field was a pleasant place set about with old oaks, in the freshest of their leaves then, through which there were glimpses of the sunlit Devon sea. Comely girls in white, clustered, arms in the air, at basket ball, or ran and smote across the tennis-courts.
Reggie paused and sank down on a seat. “This is very soothin’ and pretty,” he murmured. “Here are our young barbarians all at play. Why will they grow up, Miss Lomas? They’re so much more satisfying now.”
Miss Lomas stared at him. “Naturally they grow up,” she explained. “They can’t be children all their lives.”