"You are getting wonderfully apt, my grim friend," she said, "at those speeches which once you affected to despise."
"It was never the speeches I despised," he answered bluntly, "it was the insincerity."
"And you, I suppose, are the only sincere man who makes them. My friend, that little speech errs on the other side, does it not?"
He frowned impatiently.
"You have many guests," he said, "who will be looking for you. Let me know why you made me treat that young man so badly, and then go away.
"Have you treated him badly then?" she asked.
"Very. I recalled my acceptance of his story, and declined to discuss future work with him. I have deprived the Ibex of a contributor who might possibly have become a very valuable one, and I have gone back upon my word. I want to know why."
"I am afraid," she said softly, "that it was for me."
"For you," he answered, "of course. But your letter hinted at an explanation."
"Explanations" she yawned, "are so tedious."