After a while she could endure it no longer, and she said with a wheeze of good-natured disdain:
"It's like a school-girl's diary—all those rhapsodies over volcanoes, palm trees, and the colour of the Spanish Main. Never mind geography, child; tell me about the men!"
"'Never mind geography, child; tell me about the men!'"
"Men?" repeated Strelsa, laughingly—"why there were shoals and shoals of them, of every description!"
"I mean the one man?" insisted Mrs. Sprowl encouragingly.
"Which, please?"
"Nonsense! There was one, I suppose."
"Oh, I don't think so.... Your nephew, Langly, was exceedingly amiable——"