He drew his chair up closer to her and looked into her eyes. "You're very beautiful. Are all gipsy girls beautiful?"
She flushed, gave her head a little toss, slightly imperious. "My mother is the Queen of the gipsies."
"Then you are a princess. You look it. Tell me what you do all day."
"Nothing," she answered, simply.
"That's good," he laughed.
"What do you do?" she asked.
"Everything," he said, and laughed again.
"Where do you come from?"
"England, the south of England, Gloucestershire. Have you been there?"
"Yes," she answered. "I've been through Gloucestershire and Somersetshire and Devonshire and Warwickshire and Staffordshire. I've been all round England and Scotland."