“Yes—what?”
“Yes—Victor.”
“That’s the idea,” he insisted with forced gaiety.
“The thing to do is to face this rather funny situation and take it amiably and with good humour. You’ll have your freedom some day, you know.”
“Yes—I—know.”
“And we’re already on very good terms. We find each other interesting, don’t we?”
“Yes.”
“It even seems to me,” he ventured, “it certainly seems to me, at times, as though we are approaching a common basis of—of mutual—er—esteem.”
“Yes. I—I do esteem you, Mr. Cleves.”
“In point of fact,” he concluded, surprised, “we are friends—in a way. Wouldn’t you call it—friendship?”