“Ah Atthis, it was Sappho who told me—” tentatively he sought an air.
A touch of banter there.
“Ah Atthis—” One must make the girl feel that her little secret is out ...; quiz her; but let her know, and pretty plain, that the Poetess had been talking....
“Ah Atthis—”
But somehow or other the lyric mood to-day was obdurate, and not to be persuaded.
“I blame the oysters! After oysters—” he murmured, turning about to ascertain what was exciting the dogs.
She was coming up the drive with her face to the sun, her body shielded behind a spreading bouquet of circumstance.
“It’s all right; they’ll not hurt you.”
“Sh’o, I not afraid!”