"I—I'm not!" sobbed Dot.
"Of course not," he agreed. "Anyone can see that. But still—darling—don't!"
Dot recovered herself with surprising rapidity. "Bertie, you—you're a great big donkey!" She confronted him with wet, accusing eyes. "What you said just now wasn't true, and if—if you're a gentleman you'll apologise."
"I'll let you kick me all the way downstairs if you like," said Bertie contritely. "I didn't mean to hurt you, honest. I didn't mean to make you—"
"You didn't!" broke in Dot. "But you didn't tell the truth. That's why
I'm angry with you. You—told—a lie."
"I?" said Bertie.
He had taken his arms quite away from her now. He seemed in fact a little afraid of touching her. But Dot showed no disposition to beat a retreat. They faced each other in the old apple cupboard, as if it were the most appropriate place in the world for a conflict.
"Yes, you!" said Dot.
"What did I say?" asked Bertie, hastily casting back his thoughts.
She looked at him with eyes that seemed to grow more contemptuously bright every instant. "You said," she spoke with immense deliberation, "that I loved myself best."