which no one but ourselves knows anything about, it is so shadowy and
unreal, that contact with the outer world would crush all the beauty and
poetry of it.

'I think we might go to the sea somewhere,' says Mrs Seaton, one day as
she and Philippa are sitting together under the trees in the park, while
Teddy is hunting for caterpillars, 'it is really too unutterably dull
here, and it would do that boy good to have a change, what do you say to
a fortnight or three weeks at Folkestone?'

'It would be very nice, I should think,' replies Lippa, who is watching
the ungainly not to say peculiar movements, of a stout elderly female
who is taking equestrian exercise.

'We could get rooms at an hotel,' goes on Mabel, 'you know some cousins
of mine are there; and George said that I might do anything I liked,
while he's up in Scotland; do you really think it would be nice?'

'Yes, I do,' Lippa replies, feeling that one place is the same to her as
another. The stout elderly female has bumped away, and she is staring
straight in front of her, when suddenly the colour rushes to her face
leaving it whiter than it was before.

'Why, there's Jimmy Dalrymple,' says Mabel, 'and I do believe he's not
going to see us. I really think he might, it would be quite refreshing
to talk to somebody else besides you--'

'Am I such a dull companion then?'

Mabel laughs good-naturedly.