"If I could only see it that way."
"I should have thought it was quite transparently and innocently clear." He had scored again. For now he had taxed her with stupidity. "If I could persuade you that it came from my father, you wouldn't mind. You mind because you think it comes from me. Isn't that so?"
She was silent, and he knew.
"How can I persuade you? I can only repeat that I've absolutely nothing to do with it." There was but little friendliness about him now. His whole manner was full of weariness and irritation. "Why should you imagine that I had?"
"Because it would have been so very like you."
"Then I must be lying abominably. Is that so very like me?"
"I have heard you do it before—once—twice—magnificently."
"When?"
"About this time nine years ago."
He remembered. The wonder was that she should have remembered too.