"Yes, men," she nodded, smiling. "I don't trouble much about women—except Honor; and she's worth all the men in creation put together."
"Desmond included?" Again the covert sneer lurked in his tone, and she drew herself up with a pretty air of dignity.
"That's not any concern of yours."
"But I tell you it is!" He pressed closer. "More than you've chosen to realise so far. D'you suppose you can go on indefinitely blowing hot and cold with a man; snubbing him one minute and drawing him on the next?"
"Oh dear! Oh dear! I never bother to suppose things! Haven't I said that if you want me to be nice, you mustn't plague me with stupid questions? At any rate, you're seeing a lot of me now. And you're riding a lot with me now—isn't that enough?"
"No. It's not enough, Mrs Desmond—Evelyn——"
"Oh, hush—hush! You mustn't say that!" she murmured ineffectually; but he paid no heed.
"You find this sort of thing pleasant enough while Desmond's away; but will you keep it up when he comes back? Tell me that——" He leaned closer; but she turned her head away, avoiding his gaze.
"Oh, I don't know. How can I possibly tell?" she answered, half plaintively, half petulantly. "Why are men so tiresome? They never seem able to enjoy things peaceably without making tragedies and getting too much in earnest——"