I hardly knew whether to be pleased or not.  And besides, it didn’t seem to me conclusive.

Then she touched a button (for the castle was thoroughly wired and there was even a miniature telephone system) and servants brought us up afternoon tea, and a couple of chairs to sit on, and a folding table set out with flowers, and the best toast and the best tea and the best strawberry jam and the best chocolate cake and the best butter that I had as yet tasted in the whole island.  The view itself was good enough to eat, for we were high above everything and saw the harbour and the country stretched out on all sides like a map.

“This is where I come for my day-dreams,” said Verna.  “I usually have it all to myself, for people hate the stairs so much and the ladies twitter about the dust and the cobwebs and the shakiness of the last ladder, and the silly things get dizzy and have to be held.”

“You don’t seem to be afraid,” I said.

“This has been my favourite spot all my life,” she returned.  “I can remember Papa holding me up when I wasn’t five years old and telling me about the Lady Grizzle that threw herself off the parapet rather than marry somebody she had to and wouldn’t!”

“Tell me about your day-dreams, Verna,” I said.

“Just a girl’s fancies,” she returned, smiling.  “I dare say men have them too.  Fairy princes, you know, and what he’d say and what I’d say, and how much I’d love him, and how much he’d love me!”

“I can understand the last part of it,” I observed.

“You are really very nice,” she returned, “and when Papa has got you that place in the City, I am going to allow you to come up here and dream too.  And you’ll tell me about the Sleeping Beauty and I’ll unbosom myself about the Beast, and we’ll exchange heart-aches and be, oh, so happy together.”

“I am that now,” I said.

“You’re awfully easily pleased, Fyles,” she said.  “Most of the men I know I have to rack my head to entertain; talk exploring, you know, to explorers, and horses to Derby winners, and what it feels like to be shot—­to soldiers—­but you entertain me, and that is so much pleasanter.”

“I wish I dared ask you some questions,” I said.

“Oh, but you mustn’t!” she broke out, with a quick intuition of what I meant.

“Why mustn’t?” Tasked.

“Oh, because—­because——­” she returned.  “I wouldn’t like to fib to you, and I wouldn’t like to tell you the truth—­and it would make me feel hot and uncomfortable——­”

“What would?” I asked.

“You see, if I really cared for him, it would be different,” she said.  “But I don’t—­and that’s all.”

“Lady Grizzle over again?” I ventured.

“Not altogether,” she said, “you see she was perfectly mad about somebody else—­which really was hard lines for her, poor thing—­ while I——­”

“Oh, please go on!” I said, as she hesitated.