“Does it suggest something to you?”
He looked at her, and made his expression mischievous, or meant to make it. She looked up at him, too.
“Yes, many things,” she said—“many, many things.”
“To me it suggests kites.”
“Kites?”
“Yes. I’m going to fly one now in the Park. The stars are out. Put on your hat and come with me.”
He seemed all impulse, sparkling to the novelty of the idea.
“Well, but———” She hesitated.
“I’ve got one—a beauty, a monster! I noticed the wind was getting up yesterday. Come!”
He pulled at her hand; she obeyed him, not quickly. She put on her hat, a plain straw, a thick jacket, gloves. Kite-flying in London seemed an odd notion. Was it lively and entertaining, or merely silly? Which ought it to be?