Ella was quite overtaken with a yawn just then and covered her mouth. She had no idea how she could be tired from taking a turn about the garden and having an exciting conversation. So she chose to ignore the yawn and instead revel in her still cozy state. Three glasses, she tried to remember, was the perfect amount of wine!
"Do you think so? I would love to think such a happy thought! I dislike imagining a wonderful man as Daphne described ...rotting somewhere," Ella said and wrinkled her nose in distaste. "But I also fear that stories like Lysander's are rare indeed." --she paused and looked up at him through her eyelashes again-- "I am torn, Mr. Brinsley. I've no idea what to think!"