She showed herself exceedingly curious about him, and Pollyooly's natural discretion was somewhat strained in answering her questions.

It was difficult to convey as little information as possible.
But at the end of half an hour Eglantine had exhausted that subject; and she turned to the yet more interesting matter of her own affairs.
She had much to tell Pollyooly about Devonshire, the wet garden of England.

Its horticultural advantages seemed to weigh but lightly with her; she dwelt chiefly on the loneliness of the life she had been leading, and deplored bitterly the fact that its inglorious ease was spoiling her figure by increasing her girth.
Then, with an air of mystery and in deeper tones, she confided to Pollyooly that her lot in this wet desert was not without its alleviation.

A wealthy landowner (he did own a part of the market-garden he so sedulously cultivated) had developed a grand--oh, but a grand!--passion for her, and was positively persecuting her with his honourable intentions.
Pollyooly was deeply interested by her tale, for her recent experience with Mr.Hilary Vance, Mr.Reginald Butterwick and Flossie had forced the tender passion on her attention.

She was greatly puzzled by the reason which Eglantine gave for not making her landowner happy by marrying him, that he was bearded.