[Classic fin de siècle grandmotherly tactics. She would reply that the sea air is renowned for its curative properties, that the smell and the brisk wind are rejuvenating qualities, but it isn't entirely worth the argument. Evelyn is tired, albeit not in the physical sense. Without company she might have stayed out here all night.]
Are you my governess?
[She asks crisply, no sincere fight in the words.]
no subject
Are you my governess?
[She asks crisply, no sincere fight in the words.]
Don't tell me I have a curfew.