"Oh, Roger—why? Aren't you going to be friends?"
Alwynne was looking alarmed.
"I wonder," he began, with elaborate patience, "if you could contrive, without straining yourself, to look at things from my point of view—for a moment—only a moment?"
"That's mean. You make me feel a beast."
"That won't hurt you——"
"Roger!"
"Alwynne?"
"You're being very rude."
"You kick at the privileges of friendship already? I knew you would. Let's drop it, Alwynne. You've got your good lady: you're quite satisfied. I've not got you: I'm not. So the best thing I can do is to go back to Dene and forget about you."
"If you can," said Alwynne's widening, indignant eyes.