Roger lit a cigarette and threw the match away with a truculent gesture.
"You don't need to be so cold-blooded about it," he said irritably.
"About what?" she asked calmly.
"Oh, you know."
"I haven't an idea," she said artlessly.
"Oh, about everything," he stumbled helplessly.
"Everything?" There was an excellent imitation of astonishment in her voice. It brought him sharply to his feet, and he thrust his hands into his pockets with a snort of impatience.
"Yes, of course, my loving you—and all that."
"Oh...." Her noncommittal intonation was perfectly calculated.
"Well, I want an answer," he demanded belligerently. "You haven't any right to keep me dangling this way."