"And you're going?"
"No, sir." She meditated with her head a little on one side; a way she had. "I've got a headache, and—and—and I don't want to go and see them other dogs, sir."
"Oh, that's it, is it? A feeling for Joey?"
But by the turn of head he knew it wasn't. Rose was lying, the little minx.
"But you must go somewhere. You shall go somewhere. You shall go—I say, supposing you go for a drive with me?"
"You mustn't take me for drives, sir."
"Mustn't I?"
"I don't want you to give me drives—or—or anything."
"I see. You are to do all sorts of things for me, and I'm not to be allowed to do anything for you."
She placed his chair for him in silence, and as he seated himself he looked up into her face.