"You ought to say, 'No, no!' or 'Impossible!'" she pointed out severely.
Philip summoned up the ghost of a smile, and Peggy proceeded steadily:
"If ever I do meet a would-be Knight, I shall tell him that I am greatly obliged, but that I have other things to occupy me, and that I prefer to remain independent. So it is no use, my romantic friend," she concluded with a whimsical smile, "for you to select me as a suitable helpmeet for one of your imaginary knights. Now we really must get along: the other two will be wondering what has become of us."
She turned from the parapet to resume her walk. But Philip looked her straight in the face.
"Is that—final?" he asked.
For a moment they regarded one another unflinchingly, these two reserved and reticent people. Then Peggy's eyes fell.
"Yes," she said in a subdued voice, "that is final. So don't go hunting up a knight for me, Philip."
When Peggy returned home after the tea-party she found her parent sitting in front of a dead fire, wearing his overcoat and a face of resigned suffering.
"Hallo, Dad!" she remarked cheerfully. "Why have you let the fire go out?"