That was how and where we began.
Looking back on it all now I find it difficult—impossible in fact—to remember the stages of the argument. Perhaps really this is because it wasn't an argument so much as a disconnected series of questions and answers. She was so overwhelmingly, so terrifyingly frank. It was disconcerting; it gave one a peculiar feeling of insecurity, like walking into an unknown house and finding all the doors closed but unlocked.
And also, she didn't care. That, I can see, makes for frankness. Having stormed her citadel, I was free to do as I chose; she offered not the slightest resistance. I asked her cautious questions at first, and she answered them; then I asked her bolder questions, and she answered them. She didn't care. I said: "I may as well tell you outright that I think you and Terry are both on very dangerous ground."
"I daresay we are," she answered. She took a cigarette from a dainty little gold case, and lit it with langorous nonchalance.
"You don't mind me giving you my opinion?"
"Not in the least."
"Will you take any notice of it?"
"Probably not."
"You just intend to do whatever you like?"
"Yes."