“Especially to me.”
“Especially to you. No, I won't, Sylvia.”
And, after a hesitation, she continued sweetly:
“I wonder what you were doing, all alone in that old house of yours, when I called you up?”
“I? Let me see. Oh, I was superintending some packing.”
“Are you going off somewhere?”
“I think so.”
“Where?”
“I don't know, Sylvia.”
“Stephen, how absurd! You must know where you are going! If you mean that you don't care to tell me—”