"Have some whisky?" asked Perigal of Mavis.
"I prefer tea!"
"Have some in that?"
"No, thank you."
While Mavis sipped her tea, she watched him from the corner of her eyes mix himself a stiff glass of whisky and soda. She would have given many years of her life to have loved him a little less than she did; she dimly realised that his indifference only fanned the raging fires of her passion.
"I feel better now," he said presently.
"I'm glad. I must be going."
"Eh!"
Mavis got up and went to get her hat.
"I wish you to stay for dinner."