“I am,” she insisted. “You’re trying to force me to answer all at once, without thinking.”
“Now really,” said Hovenden, “I call vat a bit fick. Forcing you to answer all at once! But vat’s exactly what I’m not doing. I’m giving you time. We’ll go round ve lake all night, if you like.”
A quarter of a mile from the forking of the road, he put the question yet once more.
“You’re a beast,” said Irene.
“Vat’s not an answer.”
“I don’t want to answer.”
“You needn’t answer definitely if you don’t want to,” he conceded. “I only want you to say vat you’ll fink of it. Just say perhaps.”
“I don’t want to,” Irene insisted. They were very close, now, to the dividing of ways.
“Just perhaps. Just say you’ll fink of it.”
“Well, I’ll think,” said Irene. “But mind, it doesn’t commit….”