Austin could scarcely credit his senses when he beheld him. The perception of him flooded her being. But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet. “Please don’t be sad. She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz.
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