"I would not, Lady Barbara," he answered cheerfully. "Your practice of visiting young unmarried men in their rooms should be promptly checked. But I'll drop you in Berkeley Square, if you like."
"That would be more—respectable. It's curious how you seem to have made up your mind not to do anything I ask you."
"It doesn't seem to make much difference to the result."
She ceased pouting and smiled self-confidently for a moment. Then her assurance left her, and she slipped her arm timidly through his.
"Am I being a nuisance, Eric? You said so, and—oh, it did hurt! I honestly enjoyed myself this afternoon; and I wasn't so very much in the way, was I? Don't you like me to enjoy myself? Don't you like to see me happy? Are you sure you're not a little bit sorry you were so brutal to me?"
"My conscience is quite easy, thanks. Lady Barbara——"
He hesitated and felt himself flushing.
"Yes?"
"Lady Barbara—, I don't understand you, I don't begin to understand you."
"You won't write a good play till you do," she laughed. "All your women are romantic dolls. We're much better and much worse than you think. But that wasn't what you started to say."