His eyes—she could not be mistaken—were taking her in as they had done before.
"And why not for you? Do you know, you're looking horribly tired. Suppose we sit down a bit."
Miss Quincey admitted that it would be very nice.
"Hadn't you better put your cape on—the wind's changing."
She obeyed him.
"That's hardly a thick enough wrap for this weather, is it?"
She assured him it was very warm, very comfortable.
"Do you know what I would like to do with you, Miss Quincey?"
"No."
"I should like to pack you off somewhere—anywhere—for another three months' holiday."