“Company, eh?” he returned, following her (a trifle unsteadily) across the room.
“The night is so clear the moon looks to be almost transparent,” she languorously observed, with a long tugging sigh.
“And so it does,” he absently agreed.
“I adore the Pigeons in my wee court towards night, when they sink down like living sapphires upon the stones,” she sentimentally said, sighing languorously again.
“Ours,” he assured her; “since the surgery looks on to it, too....”
“Did you ever see anything so ducky-wucky, so completely twee!” she inconsequently chirruped.
“Allow me to fill this empty glass.”
“I want to go out on all that gold floating water!” she murmured listlessly, pointing towards the lake.
“Alone?”
“Drive me towards the sweet seaside,” she begged, taking appealingly his hand.