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Hyde Park they had viewed from the top of a motor bus and descending from this chariot at London Bridge had caught the train home. In the train Flamby had fallen asleep, utterly exhausted with such a saturnalia, and her parents had eaten sandwiches and partaken of beer from a large bottle which Mrs. Duveen had brought in a sort of carpet-bag.
Word of the maid's marvellous comeliness reaching Sir Jacques, he won entrance to the cottage crouching against his outer walls, disguised as a woodman; for the mighty weald had reclaimed its own in the period visited by Paul's unfettered spirit and foresters roamed the greenwood. He wooed maid Flamby, employing many an evil wile, but she was obdurate and repulsed him shrewdly.
She no longer expected any man who had seen Yvonne Mario to display the slightest interest in little insignificant Flamby Duveen; for Yvonne possessed the type of beauty which women count irresistible, but which oddly enough rarely enchains the love of men, which inflames the imagination without kindling the heart.
As fast as poor mother saved up and bought some he broke it, so after a while she stopped. I've brought the clock." "Ah!" cried Don gaily "the clock. Good. That's a start. You will at least know at what time to rise in the morning." "I shall," agreed Flamby "from the floor!" The fascinating dimple reappeared in her cheek and she burst into peals of most musical laughter.
He flicked cigarette ash on to the floor and admired the creamy curve of Flamby's neck as she lowered her head in the act of pouring out tea. "What a pretty neck you have, kid," he said in his drawling self-confident way. "Yes," replied Flamby, dropping pieces of sugar into the cups, "it isn't so bad as necks go. But I should have liked it to be white instead of yellow."
The woodwork was oaken and the walls were distempered a discreet and restful shade of blue. There were a central electric fitting and another for a reading-lamp, a fireplace of the latest slow-combustion pattern and a door communicating with an inner chamber. "Oh!" cried Flamby. "What a dear little place!"
Finally, and inevitably, she thought again of Paul Mario, and still thinking of him returned to Dovelands Cottage. Mrs. Duveen had gone into the town, an expedition which would detain her for the greater part of the day, since she walked slowly, and the road was hilly. Therefore Flamby proceeded to set the house in order.
Frailty in woman he looked for, and because he knew it to be an offshoot of that Eternal Feminine which is a root-principle of the universe, he condoned. But in Flamby he had seemed to recognise a rare spirit, one loftily above the common traits of her sex, a fit companion for Yvonne; and had been in error.
"Well you treat women so kindly, and if I were a man I should treat them so differently." "How do you know that I treat women kindly?" "You are very kind to me." "Ha!" laughed Don. "You call yourself a woman? Why you are only a kid!" "But I'm a wise kid," replied Flamby saucily, the old elfin light in her eyes.
Chumley tearfully. "So many girls seem to be able to swear nowadays. No doubt they find it a great relief." "I am so sorry," said Flamby breathlessly. "I had really made up my mind never to swear again and never to say things in Latin or quote Shakespeare; but it's very hard for me." "It must be, dear. Quite agree. I once tried to make up my mind never to give money to blind beggars again.
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