He offered her with inner hesitation, a cigarette. She shook her head. “Zanin won't let me,” she explained. “He says it's going to be a big hard job, coming right on top of all the work at the Crossroads, and I must keep fit.”
“Zanin! Zanin!...” But Peter maintained his studied calm. “I've got the scenario in my pocket,” he announced, “I want to read it to you. And if you don't mind I'll tell you just why I want to.”
“Of course I don't mind,” said she, with just one half-covert glance. “Tell me.”
“Please hear me out,” said he.
Her lids did droop a little now. This was the Eric Mann whose plays she had seen in past years and who had pounced on her so suddenly with a crazy avowal of love.... A man she hardly knew!
He spoke quietly now and patiently; even with dignity.
“We—you and Zanin and I—are starting a serious job.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Well, I began all wrong by taking a personal attitude toward you, and we quarreled rather absurdly...”
“We won't speak of that,” said she.