Flora seemed taken aback for a minute. “You know what I mean,” she said uncertainly. “Pretending to be thankful for all the nasty cast-off things rich relations give you. Last year’s coat and skirts and hats.”

“Don’t know much about ladies’ clothes; should have said you were always very well turned out.”

“It 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?”