"He's not polite to you, to me, or anybody. I told you I wanted you to give him up."
"You're fearfully exacting," she said, modulating her voice softly.
"He's a cad. I can't understand your inviting him. His very look is an insult, his touch a desecration. I don't like the way he paws you."
"Of course, he—he means nothing by it," she said soothingly. "It's only his way."
"But I don't like his way and I don't like him. I've told you so a good many times."
"You make it very difficult for me. It would have been insulting not to have asked him. We've been very good friends until you came."
"It's a pity I came, then. You've got to choose between us. I've told you that before."
"Why, Jerry, I have chosen," she said, her voice softening suspiciously. "How could I ever think of anybody else now that I have you? It's so absurd of you to be jealous of Chan. He's not like you, of course, and his manner is a little rough, but he really isn't nearly so terrible a person as you think he is." She sighed. "But if you insist, I suppose I shall have to give him up."
"Is it painful to you?" he muttered.
She laughed. "You silly boy, of course not. I will give him up. There! Does that settle that matter?"