'Oh, Vincy, I think you're very sweet to me, but how late dare I get
back to Ravenscourt Park?'

'Why not miss the eight-five train?--then you'll catch the quarter to
ten and get back at about eleven.'

'Which would you _rather_ I did?'

'Well, need you ask?'

'I don't know, Vincy. I have a curious feeling sometimes. I believe
you're rather glad when I've gone--relieved!'

'Well, my dear,' he answered, 'look how you worry all the time! If
you'd only have what I call a quiet set-down and a chat, without being
always on the fidget, always looking either at the glass or at the
clock, one might _not_ have that feeling.'

Her colour rose, and tears came to her eyes. 'Oh, then you _are_ glad
when I'm gone!' She pouted. 'You don't care for me a bit, Vincy,' she
said, in a plaintive voice.

He sat down next to her on the little striped sofa, and took her hand.

'Oh, give over, Mavis, do give over! I wish you wouldn't carry on like
that; you do carry on, Mavis dear, don't you? Some days you go on
something cruel, you do really. Reely, I mean. Now, cheer up and be
jolly. Give a kiss to the pretty gentleman, and look at all these
pretty good-conduct stripes on the sofa! There! That's better.'