“I am not going. I want to talk to you.”
“Isn’t it rather late?” She pointed this with a glance at the clock.
I could not restrain a smile.
“Is this some new game we are playing?” I asked.
She sat drumming her fingers on the sofa arm.
“Is that what you want to talk about?”
“No. I wish to ask you what you propose to do.”
“And I do not propose to tell you.”
She said this very quietly and calmly, and then suddenly flashed out—
“What I do can be no possible concern of yours, M. Denver.”