said Lady Sweetbriar. “Whatever are you doing, Avery? I mean, of course I know what you are doing, and very glad I am of it, moreover, because you are not the least like any of my flirts in that respect, which has made me wonder if you truly wish to marry me! But if you want to kiss me on the grand staircase of the British Museum, in plain view of anyone who comes along, it is quite all right with me.” In demonstration of her liberal attitude, Lady Sweetbriar stood on tiptoe and placed her hands on her companion’s lapels, closed her eyes, and prepared to receive his salute. Looking distinctly sardonic, Sir Avery Clough gazed down upon his captor’s lovely heart-shaped face. At almost thirty years of age, Lady Sweetbriar was a bewitching little creature with a tangle of dark curls and skin rendered faintly golden by injudicious exposure to sunlight. “You are a minx, Nikki,” he said. In response to this sally, Lady Sweetbriar opened one twinkling eye. “Am I not?” she cheerfully agreed.
