“I told you we’d each bring our own luncheon,” she reminded him.
“And so we did; but I don’t call it very friendly of you not to share with me.”
“I have quite enough of my own.”
She seemed determined about the matter, so he put all the things back again in the basket, closed and fastened the lid, and, placing it to one side, lighted a fresh cigarette. She watched him in amazement.
“Aren’t you going to eat your lunch?” she demanded.
“I refuse to eat alone.”
“I’m the one who is eating alone,” she said.
“That seems to be what you want.”
“You’ve no right to do things and then blame me for them,” she protested.