“Aren’t I? Well, then I’m not. It’s no use crying about it, is it?”
“No, it isn’t,” said the girl, rather disconcerted by his irony.
“But there’s no need to have a row about it. We can kiss good night just the same, can’t we?”
She was silent in the darkness.
“Or do you want your hat and umbrella to go home this minute?”
Still she was silent. He watched her dark figure as she stood there on the edge of the faint darkness, and he waited.
“Come and say good night nicely, if we’re going to say it,” he said.
Still she did not stir. He put his hand out and drew her into the darkness again.
“It’s warmer in here,” he said; “a lot cosier.”
His will had not yet relaxed from her. The moment of hatred exhilarated him.