"If you meet anybody, bring them with you," she called after him. And when the door had clicked she turned to Patricia. "Don't go, whatever you do...." She put her hand to her brow. "That young man.... He's beginning to be a nuisance."
"What, Jack?" Patricia was full of sympathy for the absent. "But he's most agreeable. I like him."
"Yes," responded Amy, with rather a morose air. "You don't have to put up with him. He's moody. He's got a fearful temper, and he sulks. It's the temperament that goes with that complexion. He's dark and sulky. He hasn't got any notion of.... He's old-fashioned...."
"Do you mean he's in love with you?" asked Patricia. "That seems to be what's the matter."
"Oho, it takes two to be in love," scornfully cried Amy. "And I'm not in love with him."
"But he's your friend."
"That's just it. He won't recognise that men and women can be friends. He's a very decent fellow; but he's full of this sulky jealousy, and he glowers and sulks whenever any other man comes near me. Well, that's not my idea of friendship."
"Nor mine," echoed Patricia, trying to reconstruct her puzzled estimate of their relations. "But couldn't you stop that? Surely, if you put it clearly to him...."
Amy interrupted with a laugh that was almost shrill. Her manner was coldly contemptuous.
"You are priceless!" she cried. "You say the most wonderful things."