“You must come driving with me—I’ve got a fine pair of greys. Will you?”
“Pretty I’d look perched behind greys in my one and only hat,” thought she. Aloud: “I’d love to.” Her easy acceptance pleased him.
“How about to-morrow?” he suggested. “Suppose you have lunch with me to-morrow and I take you driving.”
After all—this was just a game. “Yes, I’m not busy to-morrow,” she said.
A little pause—then the strange man patted his leg. “Why don’t you come and sit down?” he said.
She pretended not to see and swung on to the table. “Oh, I’m all right here.”
“No, you’re not”—again the teasing voice. “Come and sit on my knee.”
“Oh no,” said Viola very heartily, suddenly busy with her hair.
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to.”