"Yes, thanks. What a swanky bed-room! Silver hair-brushes and face powder and hairpins! Is it yours?"
"No, it's the visitors' room. I'm glad you like it."
"I didn't say I liked it. It looked as if you always had it ready for a lady. I don't like the look of your man's wife either."
Woolf laughed at the downright expression of opinion.
"She's all right," he said significantly. "She's as quiet as the grave and much deeper."
"She's no good."
"Who is! Are you?" He took her hand and tried to draw her to him. Maggy's form grew rigid.
"Hands off," she said coolly. "There's nothing doing here."
"Won't you let me kiss you?"
"No."