'I suppose so. Do you know I am very happy to-day.'
'Why particularly?'
'Ah, one never knows the reason for happiness. If one knows the reason, one is only pleased. Ah! there is the train coming out of the cutting. What was it we settled it said?'
'You thought "Utility"; I thought "Brutalité." They sound very much alike.'
There was a pause; the train rumbled itself away into the distance, and its diminuendo grew overscored again with the sounds of summer.
'I met Mr. Bilton again the other night,' said Sybil. 'He wished me every happiness. I felt rather inclined to send the wish back, like Bertie with Mrs. Emsworth's wedding-present. He didn't please me, somehow. I don't trust him. Charlie, he is extraordinarily like you.'
'Many thanks.'
'You old darling! Do you know, I believe it was that which made me first—first cast a favourable eye on him.'
'And what made you firmly remove that favourable eye?'
'I have told you. Then I came back to England and found you ill, and I embarked on a career of most futile diplomacy. I wanted to win you back to life, you see, without permitting or harbouring any sentiment. You proposed to die because you were bored. That seemed to me feeble, futile.'