"You are so rough, Brigit. Tony always says you are so rough."
"Yes, I am. Well—I am sorry for you, Gerald. When did you begin?"
"Oh—long ago. But—I seem to need more of late."
"Took it at first to make you sleep, I suppose?"
"Yes. And then—well you see, I like it. And it's nobody's business," he finished defiantly.
"That's true. Would you like some tea?"
"Oh, yes, Brigit. You are kind. It is good of you to forgive me."
"I haven't forgiven you," she retorted, going to the tea table, "but I am sorry for you. Where have you been of late?"
"Oh, all about, as usual. I came up from Morecambe yesterday. Rotten party. Have you seen your mother?"
Brigit's lips tightened. "No."