6
Yet, the very next day, paradoxically enough, she told me:
"I shall always think of you as a very, very dear friend. But it is quite impossible we should ever be anything else."
"And why, Avis?"
"Because—"
"That"—after an interval—"strikes me as rather a poor reason. So, suppose we say this June?"
Another interval.
"Well, Avis?"
"Dear me, aren't those roses pretty? I wish you would get me one, Mr.
Townsend."
"Avis, we are not discussing roses."