"There are other wild animals that you may tame, here by the sea," he said.
She considered for a moment gravely.
"That is rather pretty," she announced. "I shall re-remember that. But please do not tell me again I am beautiful." She sat down on the sand, with her back to the cliff, re-adjusting her parasol.
"Very well. I sit reproved," he replied, taking up his position by her side. "What book is that you are reading?"
She handed him the little paper-covered, airily-printed volume, suggesting summer in every leaf.
"Ah, it is The Cherub That Sits Up Aloft!" he said, with a shade of superciliousness blent with amusement.
"Yes, have you read it?" she asked.
"No," he said, "I have heard of it. It's by that new woman who came out last year and calls herself Andrew Dibdin, isn't it?"
"Yes," said Ellaline. "It's made an enormous hit, don't you know."
"Oh, yes, I know," he said, laughing. "It's a lot of sentimental rot, isn't it? Do you like it?"