“I’ve already asked her. Now I want your advice as well.”
He tilted the battered Trilby further over his ear.
“This is a horrible responsibility to have thrust upon one,” he complained. “Even the aged and presumably wise have been known to err in their verdicts upon the rising generation. Still, if you insist. . . . Well, the first objection you must face is that every other woman he meets will want to take him away from you. Dark, dare-devil, romantic fire-eaters like him are scarce these days, and the few there are can take their pick. Not that I don’t thoroughly agree with his choice. But——”
“Perhaps,” she suggested sweetly, “there might be a quite averagely nice man who would want to take me away from Mr. Templar. I don’t want to seem conceited, but you can’t have it all your way.”
He stared, then laughed.
“That’s a point of view,” he admitted.
“Now let’s go and sit in the shade and be serious,” she pleaded. “And just when we’re nearly coming to blows you can give me some tea and I shall collapse.”
They walked over to a couple of wicker chairs that stood under a tree at the side of the house.
“Are you really serious?” he questioned as they settled themselves.
She nodded.