Here he smiled with disgusting coquetry and pattered like a plump white rabbit down the shady brick path. As they stared blankly after him he turned and waved his stick at them.
"Oh, I'm no spoil-sport!" he crowed, and rounded his corner. They were left alone.
"Silly old ass!" Antony muttered, and then glared angrily at 10 the spot the buxom gentleman had quitted.
"I beg your pardon?" said the young lady, "did you speak?"
"Not to you," he replied briefly. She shook out a fluffy white parasol and under its becoming shadow looked curiously about her.
"Indeed--to whom, then," she inquired.
Antony was silent.
"Minx!" he thought.
"You are not at all like your uncle, are you?" she began, after a moment of this pregnant silence. Then after another moment she added absently, "he has such pleasant, easy manners!"
Antony settled his fleckless straw hat firmly upon his head and tightened his grip on his stick.