‘Oh, what an absurd way to talk!’ exclaimed Christopher, brushing away such stuff with a gesture of scornful impatience. ‘As if we were strangers—as if we were mere smirking acquaintances!’
‘I have a great opinion,’ said Catherine, becoming very dignified, ‘of politeness.’
‘And I haven’t. It is a thing you put on as you’re putting it on now to keep me off, to freeze me—as if you’d ever be able to freeze me when I’m anywhere near you!’
‘Good-bye,’ said Catherine at this, very cool indeed.
‘No,’ said Christopher. ‘Don’t send me away. It’s so early. It isn’t seven yet. Think of all the hours till I see you again.’
‘What I do think,’ said Catherine icily, for it was grotesque, this refusal to go away, he was humiliating her with his absurdities, ‘is that you say more foolish things in less time than any person I have ever yet come across.’
‘That’s because,’ said Christopher, ‘you’ve never yet come across any one who loves you as I love you. There. It’s out. Now what are you going to do?’
And he folded his arms, and stood waiting with burning eyes for the door to be shut in his face.
She stood a moment looking at him, a quick flush coming and disappearing across her face.
‘Oh,’ she then sighed faintly, ‘the silliness....’ For she was right up against it now. Her amusing little dream of resurrected youth was over. She was right up against Virginia.