'Melting blue.'

''Tis an English witch!' exclaimed the beau, and he compassionately
invoked her absent lord.

Chloe's optics were no longer tasked to discern the fair lady's
lineaments, for the chariot windows came flush with those of the beau on
the broad plateau of the hill. His coach door was opened. He sat
upright, levelling his privileged stare at Duchess Susan until she
blushed.

'Ay, madam,' quoth he, 'I am not the first.'

'La, sir!' said she; 'who are you?'

The beau deliberately raised his hat and bowed. 'He, madam, of whose
approach the gentleman who took his leave of you on yonder elevation
informed you.'

She looked artlessly over her shoulder, and at the beau alighting from
his carriage. 'A gentleman?'

'On horseback.'

The duchess popped her head through the window on an impulse to measure
the distance between the two hills.

'Never!' she cried.