Nell asked him after they had been walking for some moments in silence. “You get tiny lines between your eyebrows and at the corners of your eyes,” he replied. “I remembered the signs, that’s all.” She digested his words slowly, then looked up at him with a teasing smile. “’Tis not very chivalrous of you, sir, to call attention to the lines in a lady’s face.” “Are you offended, Nell?” He looked down, his gaze seeming to catch and even to search her own for a brief moment before she looked away. “I thought not. It was an excellent picnic,” he added. “Yes,” she agreed, grateful for the change of subject. “Cook prides herself on such cold collations as that. I particularly like her fried chicken. There is some spice or other that she uses that—” “All right, Nell, take a damper.” “You brought up the subject,” she pointed out. “I was merely doing my possible to pursue it.” “The devil you were. You are not usually so diffident, my dear. In general, I have found you to be refreshingly direct.
