"A light-coloured thing," said Dick.

"And what's it trimmed with?"

"Lace," said the unfortunate man. Lace indeed!

"And what coloured boots?"

"Black," said Dick, at a venture.

"And what flower?"

"I don't know--a pink rose, I think."

She started up. "Look," she cried gaily. "Oh, Dick! I'll never marry you
till you have the common decency to look at me--never! never! never! I
dressed myself this beautiful morning just to please you. Oh, Dick!
Dick, you've lost such a chance."

She stood with her hands behind her back regarding him mockingly, as Eve
in the first orchard must have regarded Adam when he was more dull and
masculine than usual--when, for instance, she had attired herself in
hybiscus flowers which he took for the hum-drum, everyday fig-leaves.

"I'm a born duffer," said Dick pathetically. "But your face is all that
I see when I look at you."

"That's all very pretty," she retorted. "But you ought to see more. Now
let us talk sense. Mind, if I sit on that bench again you're to
talk sense."