This was Diana-like and in perfect keeping with the dainty sailor outfit; moreover, nine men out of ten would fail to attribute the difference to sundry cunning strings within the London skirt.
"It is sad," Millicent was saying, "to think that we shall have no more chances of sailing.

The wind has quite dropped, that horrid tide is running, and--this is your last day." She ended with a little laugh, knowing full well that there was little sentiment in the big man by her side.
"Really," she went on, "I think I should be able to manage a boat in time, don't you think so?
Please encourage me.

I am sure I have tried to learn." But he remained persistently grave.

She did not like that gravity; she had met it before in the course of her experiments.

One of the grievances harboured by Miss Millicent Chyne against the opposite sex was that they could not settle down into a harmless, honest flirtation.
Of course, this could be nothing but a flirtation of the lightest and most evanescent description.