"Do you think so?"
Not noticing her expression of wearied disgust, he went on:
"Yes, for that sort of a blow-out. Not too rough, but just a little easy. I like them at night, but I hate them in the morning. Were you bored?"
Picking up his newspaper, he started to glance over it carelessly. Still staring idly into the street, she answered laconically:
"I'm always bored by such things as that."
"You don't have to go."
"You asked me."
"Still, you could say no."
Rising, she stooped and picked up a newspaper which had fallen on the floor. Placing it on the breakfast table, she returned to her seat at the desk.
"But you asked me," she insisted.