“In the first place, because I don't want to; and in the second, because I'm expecting Lily Dallam.”
“Lily never keeps an engagement,” he said.
“That's no reason why I shouldn't,” Honora answered.
“I'm beginning to think you're deuced clever,” said he.
“How unfortunate for me!” she exclaimed.
He laughed, although it was plain that he was obviously put out. Honora was still smiling.
“Deuced clever,” he repeated.
“An experienced moth,” suggested Honora; “perhaps one that has been singed a little, once or twice. Good-by—I've enjoyed myself immensely.”
She glanced back at him as she walked down the path to the roadway. He was still standing where she had left him, his feet slightly apart, his hands in the pockets of his riding breeches, looking after her.
Her announcement of an engagement with Mrs. Dallam had been, to put it politely, fiction. She spent the rest of the afternoon writing letters home, pausing at periods to look out of the window. Occasionally it appeared that her reflections were amusing. At seven o'clock Howard arrived, flushed and tired after his day of rest.