“More so than for walking,” he retaliated. “I'm going to drive you home.”
“At six o'clock?”
“At six o'clock.”
“And suppose I wish to leave before then?”
He cast an expressive glance towards the windows, where the rain could be heard beating relentlessly against the panes.
“It's quite up to you . . . to walk home.”
Sara made a small grimace of disgust.
“Otherwise,” she said tentatively, “I am going to stay here, whether I will or no?”
He nodded.
“Yes. It's my birthday, and I'm proposing to make myself a present of an hour or two of your society,” he replied composedly.