"Yes."
"You're very late."
"I'm sorry. I didn't get away from Bruton Street till nearly ten. Are you alone?" Ronnie hated himself for that question: it sounded almost furtive. But Aliette's answer was the very spirit of frankness.
"Yes. I'm quite alone. In the library. Mollie's gone to bed. Why do you ask?"
"Because--there's something I want to say to you--Aliette." He paused a second, mastered by emotion; then again he said: "Aliette?"
"Yes--Ronnie."
"You're not angry with me--about Thursday?"
"No." It seemed to him that he could almost see her lips move. "No. I'm not angry--with you: only with myself."
"You know----" He hesitated. "You know that I love you."
"Yes, I know that." A little laugh. "It doesn't make things any easier for me, does it?"