"I never understood it," she observed, lightly scornful. "What occult meaning has a sun-dial for the spooney? I'm sure I don't want to read riddles in a strange gentleman's optics."
"The verses," he explained, "are evidently addressed to the spooney, so why should you resent them?"
"I don't. . . . I can be spoons, too, for that matter; I mean I could once."
"But you're past spooning now," he concluded.
"Am I? I rather resent your saying it—your calmly excluding me from anything I might choose to do," she said. "If I cared—if I chose—if I really wanted to—"
"You could still spoon? Impossible! At your age? Nonsense!"
"It isn't at all impossible. Wait until there's a moon, and a canoe, and a nice boy who is young enough to be frightened easily!"
"And I," he retorted, "am too old to be frightened; so there's no moon, no canoe, no pretty girl, no spooning for me. Is that it, Eileen?"
"Oh, Gladys and Sheila will attend to you, Captain Selwyn."
"Why Gladys Orchil? Why Sheila Minster? And why not Eileen Erroll?"