And, after I had endeavored to read, and Charmian had hummed for perhaps five minutes, I lowered my book, and, sighing, glanced at her.
"I am trying to read, Charmian."
"So I see."
"And your humming confuses me."
"It is very quiet outside, Peter."
"But I cannot read by moonlight, Charmian."
"Then—don't read, Peter." Here she nibbled her thread with white teeth, and held up what she had been sewing to view the effect of a bow of riband, with her head very much on one side. And I inwardly wondered that she should spend so much care upon such frippery—all senseless bows and laces.
"To hum is a very disturbing habit!" said I.
"To smoke an evil-smelling pipe is worse—much worse, Peter!"
"I beg your pardon!" said I, and laid the offending object back upon the mantel.