Call me _Mr._ Kelly." "I won't.

You are only a big boy, anyway--Louis Neville--and sometimes I shall call you Kelly, and sometimes Louis, and very occasionally Mr.
Neville." "All right," he said, absently--"only hold that distractingly ornamental head and those incomparable shoulders a trifle more steady, please--rest solidly on the left leg--let the right hip fall into its natural position--_that's_ it.

Thank you." Holding the pose her eyes wandered from him and his canvas to the evening tinted clouds already edged with deeper gold.

Through the sheet of glass above she saw a shred of white fleece in mid-heaven turn to a pale pink.
"I wonder why you asked me to tea ?" she mused.
"What ?" He turned around to look at her.
"You never before asked me to do such a thing," she said, candidly.
"You're an absent-minded man, Mr.Neville." "It never occurred to me," he retorted, amused.

"Tea is weak-minded." "It occurred to me.