"So I am to come and amuse my lord!" she laughed. "Well, I'll come," she went on quickly. "We'll sit and you shall imagine that I am Louise, and make love to her. Will that make you happy?"
John leaned out of the car.
"Sophy," he whispered, as he slipped in his clutch, "just now I do not feel like making love to any woman on earth!"
"Fed up with us, eh?"
He nodded.
"You're different, thank Heaven! Don't be late."
XXIII
"This is very nearly my idea of perfect happiness," Sophy murmured, as she leaned across the table and listened idly while John ordered the dinner. "Give me very little to eat, John, and talk a great deal to me. I am depressed about myself and worried about everything!"
"And I," he declared, "am just beginning to breathe again. I don't think I understand women, Sophy."