He smiles. After all, why not be friends with her? Had he explained that indifference was the word she should have used for hate, would she be any the wiser?
"No—really?" She has flung herself into a chair, and is looking at him with her hands clasped behind her head. "Well," thoughtfully, "I don't hate you, either. That's a blessing, isn't it?"
"A great one."
He feels a little piqued, however, at the nonchalance of her manner. Why should it occur to her that she might hate him? She has, unknowingly certainly, but unquestionably, blocked his way to the fulfilment of his desires, but he—— He changes colour; is he standing in her way, then?
"What was the letter you were reading this morning when I came in?"
"A letter?"
He brings himself back to the present with an effort.
"Yes. It was so interesting," says she, making him a little malicious grimace, "that you could not spare a moment from the reading of it to acknowledge my presence."
"It was from my mother."
"No wonder it was so engrossing," says Tita naughtily. "Well——"