"There's only one other possible arrangement. And you'd not consider that possible."
"What is it?" rather breathlessly.
"For you to make yourself comfortable behind a barricade of those two useful screens in your bedroom, while I sit up in an armchair—or spread myself out on this sofa."
"I do consider that possible," said Marise, "now I know what kind of a man you are. That's what we'll do! I'll slip on a dressing-gown and curl up on top of the bed under an eiderdown. And early in the morning the one that's awake will call the other. It's quite simple—and you see I'm not so disagreeable as you thought."
"Have I ever given you cause to believe I thought you disagreeable?"
"Dear me, yes! Whole heaps of times! Not that it matters."
"I suppose it wouldn't matter to you. But it does matter to me, 'what kind of a man' you 'now know' me to be. Have you been studying me? I hadn't noticed it. But if you have, I'd be interested to hear what conclusions you've come to. Do you mind telling me?"
"Oh, my conclusions mostly concern your state of mind regarding me!" said Marise.
"What, according to you, is it?"
"Dislike," she replied promptly.