Prudence deliberately sat down in the shade of the tree near where Lawrence had been sitting.
"Let us converse," she said.
The young man resumed his position.
"No," remarked Prudence, presently; "that isn't the way I speak of absent friends. I don't know that Lord Maxwell is a friend—"
"What is he, then, I should like to know?"
"Oh, well, perhaps you may call him 'first flirter' just now."
Here Prudence pulled a long blade of grass, and thoughtfully examined it.
"First flirter? Ugh!"
After this Lawrence kept silence, and the girl picked the grass to pieces. He glanced at her; he saw that her face was softening in a way he remembered. He thought he would rise and walk away; then it did not seem quite courteous to leave her so markedly.
"I hope you enjoy it," he said, finally.