"Are you really going to Ireland?" she asked, putting her hand on his arm.
"Yes," he answered, feeling his resolution weakening just because she had touched him.
"But why?"
"You know why!" he said.
Her hand dropped from his arm. "I don't know why," she exclaimed pettishly, and he saw and disliked the way her lips turned downwards as she said it.
"I can't bear it, Cecily," he exclaimed. "I must have you to myself or ... or not have you at all!"
"Perfectly absurd!" she murmured.
"It isn't absurd. How can you expect me to feel happy when I see you going off with Jimphy? Can't you understand, Cecily? Here I am with you now, but if Jimphy were to come into the room, I should have to ... to give way, to pretend that I'm not in love with you!"
"I can't see what difference it makes," she said. "Jimphy and I don't interfere with each other. It's ridiculous to make all this fuss. I don't see any necessity to go about telling everybody!..."
"I didn't propose that," he interrupted.