"Why do you ask?"
"You never told me anything," she pouted. "But I'm not asking. I've no curiosity. The knots men tie themselves into—"
"You can laugh."
"You make me. Aren't men silly? Tell me about—to whom you came back."
"What does it matter?"
"It doesn't. I don't care." She drummed her fingers on the table. "All men are like cats, home by day, and tiles by night. But if you'd told me you were likely to get scolded for saying how d'you do to me, I'd have been more careful of you."
Her smile derided him. "Has someone scolded you?" she asked.
Consommé was set before them and she began to drink it with appetite, not repeating her question till it was finished.
"Well?" she said then, tilting her head inquiringly to one side.
"The fact is," he answered abruptly, "I—I've had a bad let-down."