"You won't sit there and see me starve?"

"There won't be time. I have to get back."

"But, however much you hate me, you surely haven't the heart to send
me supperless to bed?"

"You shouldn't make silly resolutions."

As Windebank did not speak for some moments, Mavis looked at her
surroundings. Men and women in evening dress were beginning to
trickle in from theatres, concerts, and music hall. She noticed how
they all wore a bored expression, as if it were with much of an
effort that they had gone out to supper.

"Don't move! Keep looking like that," cried Windebank suddenly.

"Why?" she asked, quickly turning to him.

"Now you've spoiled it," he complained.

"Spoiled what?"

"Your expression. Good heavens!"

The exclamation was a signal for retrospection on Windebank's part.
When he next spoke, he said:

"Is your name, by any wonderful chance, Mavis Keeves?"