"I am sure it must be interesting, and I should love to read it. But really you must tell me about this Sleepy Hollow of yours. Who did you see there?"
"My own folk, of course, and a handful of old friends."
"Anybody in par-tic-u-lar?"
Flo smiled roguishly. She had practised the smile before, and could do it to perfection.
"N-o; nobody—worth mentioning."
Henry had a suspicion that he was being teased, and he rather liked the operation.
"Really! I can scarcely believe you. But all the same, I have a fancy to see this birthplace of our budding editor. I imagine it must be a sweet little spot."
"Perhaps it is best in imagination. You would find the actual thing deadly dull."
He felt himself drifting rudderless before a freshening breeze of talkee-talkee.
"No, no, no; I am sure I wouldn't, though you do not paint it with purple. Do you know," she went on, resting her pretty head upon her hand and glancing up sideways at him, "I'm beginning to think that they don't appreciate you properly in Hampton Bagot. A prophet has no honour in his own country, they say. But we are proud of you here."