"I'm not speaking of myself, but of my friends—my guests."
He leant his arm on the table which stood between them. "Meaning Mr. Arthur Lisle?"
"The smoke of your pipe blows in my face when you lean forward like that."
"Sorry!" He laid his pipe down beside him. "Well, the fact is, I'm about fed up with Lisle."
And Arthur Lisle was much in the same case—allowing for the difference of expression—as to Sidney! Marie smiled, but her brow wrinkled. "Sorry you don't like him, but it costs nothing to be polite."
"Well, all I can say is that I shall be very much obliged if you'll ask us on different evenings."
"That's assuming that I'm going to ask you on any evenings at all."
She thought this smart flick of her whip would bring him to reason.
"Oh, perhaps Lisle's going to be there every evening?"
"Any evening that he likes, Pops and I will be very pleased to see him—with or without an invitation." She relented a little; he looked angry and obstinate, but he looked handsome too. "You too, if you won't be silly. Why do you dislike him so much?"