“What do you mean, Clytie?”
“Well, can't you recognise a protest when you see one?”
“Oh, Clytie, don't tease and puzzle me,” cried Winifred, giving her friend's arm a little shake. “Do you know him?”
“Of course not. How should I? But Mrs. Gurkins was telling me about him only this morning. His name is Kent. He seems to frighten the life out of her, and therefore I say he is a protest. Now you know, so run away home.”
When Winifred had reached the street door Clytie leaned over the banisters and called after her.
“Winnie! I must have been in a sweet temper this afternoon.”
“Of course, dear. Why do you say so?”
“Because you have left your basket of anemones for me to take care of!”