His face relaxed.
"I shall be content," he said. Then, impetuously, "Alwynne, I'll make you so happy. You shall do—nearly everything—you want to. Alwynne, if you only knew——"
She stopped him hurriedly, pulling away her hands.
"Don't, Roger! Don't! I didn't mean that. I only meant I'd like to. But I can't, of course. Of course, I can't. There's Clare."
"Clare!" His tone abolished Clare.
Alwynne flushed.
"Why do you sneer at Clare? You always sneer. I won't have it."
Her tone, in spite of her sudden anger, was unconsciously and comically proprietary. He repressed a smile as he answered her.
"All right, dear. But I wasn't sneering—not at Clare."
"At me, then?"