This sort of thing could not go on. She must be brave for once. Unconsciously she was still gripping the roses with both hands.
"Mr. Waring—" she began.
"Tots," he substituted gently.
"Well—Tots," she repeated unwillingly, "I—I want to ask you something."
"Fire away!" said Tots.
"I want to know—I want to know—" She stumbled again, and broke off in distress.
Tots wheeled round as he sat, and brought his long legs into the room.
"Please don't," she begged hastily. "I—I want you inside."
He did not retire again, nor did he advance.
"You want to know—" he said.