"What a heroic exploit!" she said with subtle mockery, but the flush deepened.
"You know to what lengths I can go in my longing to be a hero!" he muttered.
"Running off with girls under your arm seems to have become a mania. But isn't your idea rather prosaic in this age of flying-machines? To swoop down on one in an aëroplane would be so much more thrilling! This is the field where you practise, too, isn't it? Is that building away over there where you keep your Glider?"'
"Yes. At first I made the models in a Japanese house of mine near here. I keep it still, from sentiment."
"How fine to meet a man who admits to having sentiment! I'm tremendously interested in Japanese houses. You must show it to me."
"I will. And when will you let me take you for a 'fly?'"
"I'm relieved," she said, "to find you willing to ask permission."
Her eyes sparkled into his, and both laughed. Patricia was chatting animatedly with Count Voynich, the young diplomatist whom she had pointed out in the train, and whose monocle now looked absurdly contemplative and serene under a menacing helmet. The confusion of many colors, the pomp and panoply under the day's golden azure, was singing in Barbara's veins. She moved suddenly toward the front. "Come," she said, "I want you to tell me things!"
"I'm going to," he answered grimly. "I've known I should, ever since—"
"Look!" she cried. Several coaches had bowled up; behind each stood footmen in gold-lace and cocked hats, knee breeches and white silk stockings. Daunt named the occupants as they descended: the Premier, one of the "Elder Statesmen," the Minister of the Household.