He stood awkwardly a moment, while she finished putting up her hair.
Then, as she turned toward him, he smiled again, holding out his hand.
"Surely you are not angry with me," he pleaded. "I care more for your feeling toward me than for anything else in the world."
"It would amuse Mrs. Rangely to hear you say so, not to mention my husband."
He stared at her with the air of a man not sure whether he is awake or dreaming.
"What are they to us?" he asked, sinking his voice almost to a whisper.
"Mrs. Rangely may be nothing to you, but Dr. Wilson is still a good deal to me, thank you."
He looked at her again with perplexity in his glance, but with his face hardening.
"You surely cannot mean that you have ceased to care for me just for a second of meaningless laughter?"
She swept him a scornful courtesy.
"You do these things better in your novels, Mr. Rangely, which shows what an advantage it is to have time to think speeches over. I wouldn't have my hero say a thing like that, if I were you. It would make him seem like a conceited cad."