“I should say so.... Swans and peacocks! I wonder you’re prepared to admit it.”
“Admit it?”
“Outside of Confessions, Sir Oliver.”
Miss Sinquier raised a hurried hand to her glass.
“No, no, no, no, no, no wine!” she exclaimed. “Something milky....”
“Fiddlesticks. Our first little dinner.”
“Oh, Sir Oliver.”
“And not, I trust, our last!”
“I enjoy it so much—going out.”
Mrs. Sixsmith slapped her little dog smartly upon the eyes with her fan.