Phyllis was apparently fascinating the susceptible Dan, to judge from the smile on his face and from the way his head bent towards her.
Phyllis’s small, piquant face, veiled illusively with white tulle, which covered the enormous hat, confining the sprays of pink roses, was lifted to Dan.
Luckily Dan was perforce wearing a shade.
But Phyllis’s voice was low and musical, and Dan had ears intact. Moreover, Philip observed, Phyllis’s little delicately-gloved hand now and again rested on Dan’s coat-sleeve as she emphasized some remark.
No! Philip decided. This would not do.
It was seemingly a necessity to Phyllis to have a male appendage—to have a man to flirt with, innocently but foolishly.
Dan, poor unfortunate Dan, with his shaded eyes, was better than no one.
Philip could think of only one means of keeping silly, giddy little Phyllis—who was a dear baby, all the same—within bounds. Philip must attach himself to her, keep her always in tow, and thus guard her. No harm could come to him, as he knew she was married; and there was a much stronger reason, too, why she could never hurt him. No harm could come to her, if she chose to mildly flirt with him. Though Philip was actually only a few years older than Phyllis, his interest in the alluring little woman was paternal.
The warning word which Philip took the opportunity of saying to Phyllis was spoken when the two young people were on their way back to Hawk’s Nest. The others had chosen to take a tram from the Memorial.
The clock on Blacklands Church chimed the half-hour as the actual warning was spoken. They had all left the sea-front at ten o’clock when the band played “God save the King” (and the Colonel had been a little annoyed even with his dear Mrs. Barrimore for begging him to come back with them for an hour, at a moment when he was “standing at attention,” like a good soldier, to honor the King).