CHAPTER XXX
I FOLLOWED you," he said.
"I thought so," said I. "It was like you."
"I want to talk to you," he explained.
"But I don't want to talk to you," I objected.
"You 'll be sorry if you 're rude. What I came to say is for your own good."
"I doubt that!" said I, looking anxiously down one avenue of trees after another, for a figure that would have been doubly welcome now.
"Well, I can easily prove it, if you 'll listen."
"As you have longer legs than I have, I am obliged to listen."
"You won't regret it. Now, come, my dear little girl, don't put on any more frills with me. I 'm gettin' a bit fed up with 'em."
(I should have liked to choke him with a whole mouthful of "frills," the paper kind you put on ham at Christmas; but as I had none handy, I thought it would only lead to undignified controversy to allude to them.)
"I had a little conversation about you with the Duchesse de Melun night before last," Bertie went on, with evident relish. "Ah, I thought that would make you blush. I say, you 're prettier than ever when you do that! It was she began it. She asked me if I knew your name, and how Lady T. found you. Her Ladyship could n't get any
