Mrs. Gracedew weighed the necessity. “Where is he?”
“Waiting.” And the girl’s glance, removed from her companion and wandering aloft and through space, gave the scale of his patience.
Her adviser, however, required the detail. “But where?”
Cora briefly demurred again. “In that funny old grotto.”
Mrs. Gracedew thought. “Funny?”
“Half-way from the park gate. It’s very nice!” Cora more eagerly added.
Mrs. Gracedew continued to reflect. “Oh, I know it!” She spoke as if she had known it most of her life.
Her tone encouraged her client. “Then will you see him?”
“No.” This time it was almost dry.
“No?”