It was clear that he, too, was trying to gain time.
“Oh, mind my daffodils, please!”
Gregory went down on his knees, and raised the bloom that he had trodden on. He then offered it to Mrs. Pendyce. The action was one to which she was so unaccustomed that it struck her as slightly ridiculous.
“My dear Grig, you'll get rheumatism, and spoil that nice suit; the grass comes off so terribly!”
Gregory got up, and looked shamefacedly at his knees.
“The knee is not what it used to be,” he said.
Mrs. Pendyce smiled.
“You should keep your knees for Helen Bellow, Grig. I was always five years older than you.”
Gregory rumpled up his hair.
“Kneeling's out of fashion, but I thought in the country you wouldn't mind!”