"Mr. Fisher!" Emilie's face brightened as she looked up at him from under her wide brimmed, dark blue silk hat, took the glass from his hand and laughed happily at his question. "I am a terrible shot! I cannot hit the side of St. James Palace! And, I am a horrible hypocrite, I abhor the killing of pheasant and the like, but will eat it till I can barely breath!" She moved her skirts aside to give him room. Her expression became soft, she leaned her face close to his and put her hand down on the rug for balance, letting the velvet soft side of her hand rest against his as she picked a strawberry from her plate that sat beside him. "And," she continued softly "I cannot, it seems, walk down a dark street alone." She drew back and stared him directly in the eyes and bit into the strawberry.