“Oh, come along”—impatiently.
She shook her head from side to side. “I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.”
At that he got up and came over to her. “Funny little puss cat!” He put up one hand to touch her hair.
“Don’t,” she said—and slipped off the table. “I—I think it’s time you went now.” She was quite frightened now—thinking only: “This man must be got rid of as quickly as possible.”
“Oh, but you don’t want me to go?”
“Yes, I do—I’m very busy.”
“Busy. What does the pussy cat do all day?”
“Lots and lots of things!” She wanted to push him out of the room and slam the door on him—idiot—fool—cruel disappointment.
“What’s she frowning for?” he asked. “Is she worried about anything?” Suddenly serious: “I say—you know, are you in any financial difficulty? Do you want money? I’ll give it to you if you like!”
“Money! Steady on the brake—don’t lose your head!”—so she spoke to herself.