“Has it been altogether my fault?”
“Well, I suppose not,” admitted Grahame.
“I’ll put you to the test. Let us go out of town from Saturday till Monday. I know a ripping little seaside hotel, and I love the sea in winter.” He coloured and looked confused, and I added quickly: “You can’t come?”
“Well, I——”
“Don’t prevaricate, Grahame. Of course you can’t come. In the first place, you have promised to take her to a theatre on Saturday evening. You are lunching with her on Sunday. You are driving her to the Star and Garter at Richmond to tea in the afternoon, and you are coming back to dine somewhere very luxurious with her in the evening.”
He laughed. “That’s very near it.”
“And in two years’ time, or even sooner, her face won’t stir a passing emotion in you.”
“Don’t, Israel, you hurt.”
“I’m sorry, but if you did come away you would be thinking of nothing but her the whole time.”
“I am afraid you are right.”