“Yes,” said she, still not looking at him. “If you wish.”
“I do wish,” he said. And all the time he sat with his eyes fixed on her face, and she sat with her face averted.
“Now?” he said. “And where?”
Again she was silent for some moments, as if struggling with herself. Then she looked at him—a long, strange, dark look, incomprehensible, and which he did not like.
“You don't want emotions? You don't want me to say things, do you?” he said.
A faint ironic smile came on her face.
“I know what all that is worth,” she said, with curious calm equanimity. “No, I want none of that.”
“Then—?”
But now she sat gazing on him with wide, heavy, incomprehensible eyes. It annoyed him.
“What do you want to see in me?” he asked, with a smile, looking steadily back again.