“Lying?” said Blunt, sharply interrupting.

 

Flora seemed taken aback for a minute.

 

“You know what I mean,” she said uncertainly. “Pretending to be thankful for all

the nasty castoff things rich relations give you. Last year’s coats and skirts

and hats.”

 

“Don’t know much about ladies’ clothes; should have said you were always very

well turned out.”

 

“It’s cost me something, though,” said Flora in a low voice. “Don’t let’s talk

of horrid things. I’m so happy. I’m free. Free to do what I like. Free not to——”

 

She stopped suddenly.

 

“Not to what?” asked Blunt quickly.

 

“I forget now. Nothing important.”

 

Blunt had a stick in his hand, and he thrust it into the pond, poking at

something.

 

“What are you doing, Major Blunt?”