"No thank you, Mary."
"Look here, Mill—you won't tell me what the trouble is?"
"Not now. . . . Later on."
"All right. Sorry, old dear. But every trouble passes."
"Yes, I know."
She read on for an hour. The little clock struck eight. She put the book down.
"I'll go to bed now I think."
"Right oh! Nothing I can get you?"
"No. I'm all right."
"Shall I come and sleep with you?"