Nigel already knew this, to his great regret.
“I care more for you than I do for the children,” she repeated.
“Yes.”
“What do you mean by ‘Yes’?”
“I was assenting: that’s all. I meant—that you’ve told me all this before, my dear. Haven’t you?”
“Do you object? Do you mind my caring more for you than for the children?”
“If I object to anything it’s only to your repeating yourself. I mean—we’ve had all this; haven’t we?”
“Nigel, are you trying to quarrel with me for loving you better than the children?”
Nigel turned pale with irritation but controlled himself and stood up and looked out of the window.
“Not in the least. It’s most flattering. I only don’t want to be told it every time I see you. … I mean that of course I should think it perfectly natural if you were fond of the children too.”