Traversing the grove which encircled the newly clipped lawn, now fragrant with sun-crisped grass-tips left in the wake of the mower, he glanced up at the pretty mermaid mother cuddling her tiny offspring against her throat. Across her face a bar of pink sunlight fell, making its contour exquisite.
"Plunkitt tells me that they really laugh at each other in the moonlight," he said.
She glanced up; then away from him:
"You seem to be enamoured of the moonlight," she said.
"I like to prowl in it."
"Alone?"
"Sometimes."
"And—at other times?"
He laughed: "Oh, I'm past that, as you reminded me a moment ago."
"Then you did misunderstand me!"