"Do you like that kind of story?"
"I like plots about real life best," she said. "Don't you?"
He found this an exposition of the keenest literary sympathies, and regarded her adoringly. She preferred analysis to adventure, and realism to romance! What work he might accomplish inspired by the companionship of such a girl!
"Wherever have you been, Cynthia? We thought you were lost," he heard Mrs. Walford say discordantly, and the next moment they were all together.
"It's where have you been, mamma, isn't it?"
"Well, I like that! We didn't stop a minute; I made certain you saw us get up. We've been hunting for you everywhere. Mr. Turquand and I have been out here ever so long, haven't we, Mr. Turquand? Looking at the moon, too, if you want to know, and—hee, hee, hee!—talking sentiment."
Turquand, who was staring at Kent, allowed an eyelid to droop for an instant at the conclusion, and the latter stroked his moustache and smiled.
"Such a time we've been having, all by ourselves" she persisted uproariously. "Mr. Kent, are you shocked? Oh, I've shocked Mr. Kent! He'll always remember it—I can see it in his face."
"I shall always remember you, Mrs. Walford," he said, trying to make the fatuity sound graceful.
"We were left by ourselves, and we had to get on as we could!" she cried. "Hadn't we, Mr. Turquand? I say we had to amuse ourselves as we could. Now Cynthia's glowering at me! Oh—hee, hee, hee!—you two young people are too respectable for us. We don't ask any questions, but—but I daresay Mr. Turquand and I aren't the only ones—hee, hee, hee!—who have been 'looking at the moon.'"