"Perhaps, we'd better be going back," said Riatt calmly.

Christine barred the door, spreading out both her arms.

"She thinks you're making love to me, Max."

"And yet, Christine, I'm not."

"But she doesn't know that; she doesn't know what an immovable
iceberg you are."

"No, indeed she doesn't."

Christine's manner again changed utterly. All the playfulness
disappeared. "You mean," she said, "that you're not cold and immovable
with her?"

"What's the use of my telling you anything, if you don't believe me?" The
idea of teasing Christine had never occurred to him before, but he
thought highly of it. She came toward him at once.

"Oh, Max, my dear," she said, "don't be horrid, when I'm having such a
wretched time anyhow. Don't you think you might _pretend_ to care for me
just a little?"

Riatt rose. "Yes, I do," he said, "and so I shall, in public."

Christine was all the gentle, wistful child immediately.