"And you are just fourteen, Leila. The wrinkles of age are gone—they used to be dimples."
"Nonsense! Let's play."
They hooked together the bent stems of the flowers. Then there was a quick jerk, and one violet was decapitated. "One for you, Leila;—and another."
"You are not paying any attention to the game. Please to keep young a little while." He was watching the sunlight as it fell upon her neck when it bent over the flowers.
"And how am I to keep young, Miss Grey?"
"Oh, any woman can answer that—ask Miss Ramsay."
"I will. There! you have won, Leila, three to two. There used always to be a forfeit. What must I pay?"
"Now, John, what terrible task shall I put upon you? I have it. You shall ask me to give you the third dance."
"That is Miss Ramsay's. I am sorry."
"Oh, one girl is as good as another."