“Tell me about the girl you were fond of,” she said, abruptly.
“What do you want to talk about her for? There’s nothing to tell you, really. She had red hair.”
Sylvia was glad that Arthur spoke of her with so little interest; it certainly was definitely comforting to feel the utter dispossession of that red-haired girl.
“Look here,” said Sylvia. “I’m going to let these people suppose that I’m your long-lost relative. I shall pay their bill and bring the doctor down to see you. Arthur, I’m glad I’ve found you. Do you remember the cab-horse? Oh, and do you remember the cats in the area and the jug of water that splashed you? You were so unhappy, almost as unhappy as you were when I found you here. Have you always been treated unkindly?”
“I have had a pretty hard time,” Arthur said.
“Oh, but you mustn’t be sorry for yourself,” she laughed.
“No, seriously, Sylvia, I’ve always had a lot of people against me.”
“Yes, but that’s such fun. You simply must be amused by life when you’re with me. I’m not hard-hearted a bit, really, but you mustn’t be offended with me when I tell you that really there’s something a tiny bit funny in your being stranded in the Auburn Hotel, Sulphurville.”
“I’m glad you think so,” said Arthur, in rather a hurt tone of voice.
“Don’t be cross, you foolish creature.”