“Love.”
“You’ve got it.”
“You don’t call this love?”
“I do.”
“Then I don’t. It is just playing the fool—wasting time.”
“It isn’t wasting time. We are much better friends than we were.”
“I don’t want to be friends. I’ve had enough of friends. They have never done me any good. It’s a silly, thin kind of happiness at best.”
“It is better than no happiness at all, which the other would be.”
“How can you say that?” he cried, revolted. “How can you say that? Every thought, every dream I have is centred on it. It is such happiness that my imagination, is baffled by it.”
“Please let us stop talking about it. We are only getting horribly at cross-purposes.”