“Yes.” There was a pause. He waited. Then her voice, rather low and quiet:
“To control my own temper it is necessary for me to keep reminding myself that you love me.... Perhaps you wouldn’t speak that way if you didn’t.... Perhaps men are that way.... I’m sorry I’m not dining with you.... I’m sorry because I’m in love with you.... And always will be.... Good-night, dear.”
“Eris!”
“Yes, dear.”
“I’m ashamed—penitent—miserable. I’m rottenly jealous——”
“Darling! You have no cause——”
“No. But—I can’t bear to think of you alone with other men. I know it’s all right. I know also that jealousy is a low-down, common, disgusting, contemptible emotion——”
“Barry! I want you to be properly jealous of my safety and well-being. I adore it in you, you funny, delightful boy! I’m not experienced with men, but I’m beginning to understand you. Darling! You may even swear at me if you want to—if you do it’s because you’re in love with me.”
The girl, laughing, heard the boy sigh: “It’s doing queer things to me,” he said, “—this love business. All I can think of is you; and when you’re away I just dope myself with work.... I don’t mean to be selfish——”
“I want you to be. Be a perfect pig if you like, darling. Bully me, threaten, monopolise me—oh, my dear, my dear, give me my allotted time to work, learn, and make good; and then I promise—I promise you all that is within me to give—mind and soul, Barry—utter devotion, gratitude unmeasured, all, all of me—darling!——”