"Really, really glad?" he asked, his face lightening.
"Of course. I love flowers."
"I see," he said coldly.
She made as if she would leave him, but, as before, felt a certain inertness in his presence which she was in no mood to combat; instead of going, she turned to him to ask:
"Anything happened to you since I last saw you?"
"The usual."
"What?"
"Depression and rows with my father."
"I thought you'd forget your promise."
"On the contrary, that's what all the row was about."