He crossed to the window and stood looking out, trying to recover from the shock and disappointment.
Of course she was right. He was glad in a way that she hadn’t meant it. Only it was such an odd way of putting it. He couldn’t be blamed for misunderstanding. She was really quite fantastic. What confidence she had in herself!
And how like Sydney! Taking his bed, making him sleep in a chair, no thought for his comfort. Had she managed to guess that he was easily scared, that he was timid and uneasy with women? Was that the reason why she was pushing him out of his bed—because she knew very well he wouldn’t have the nerve to force his attention on her? He didn’t think so. How could any girl be sure of that?
She was standing at his side.
“I’ll go if you want me to,” she said. “You mustn’t let me impose on you. I’m selfish. If you don’t want to sleep in the chair, turn me out.”
As if he would.
“Of course not,” he said eagerly. “I’m awfully pleased to have you here. I mean that. I’m sorry I was so stupid. I’m really ashamed of myself…”
She looked at him Was that odd expression contempt? He looked again, but her eyes had become expressionless.
“All my friends know about me,” she said. “I’d forgotten that you don’t. Still, you don’t want me, do you? You must have dozens of women.”
“But I haven’t…”