"Then why--" began Sylvia and stopped.
"There is only one why, young lady, and you know it."
Sylvia frowned and jabbing out her hatpins a little irritably, tossed her black velvet toque on the table. She had already removed her coat and furs and stood, trim and tailored, in her simple blue serge dress; a simplicity which was exceedingly becoming and likewise extremely expensive as Jack's approving gaze, sweeping the lithe young curves of her figure, knew very well.
"I wish you wouldn't, Jack."
"Wouldn't what?" blandly.
"Wouldn't work--just because I want you to. It is so horribly like a bribe."
"It is a bribe."
"Then I don't like it. I told you I didn't promise anything."
"And I told you I didn't expect anything. You can't blame a fellow for putting all the eggs he can find into his basket."
"Put all the eggs you like into the basket, only don't blame me if they get smashed. Sometimes, Jack, I think you don't really want to marry me at all--you just want the fun of pursuing me."