"I mean, you're so deliciously young. Do you usually go about talking to girls as you've been talking to me?"
I buttoned up my coat, preparatory to leaving. "Being a friend of you both," I said, "if a word of advice——"
"But you haven't given it."
Literally, I suppose that was true.
"Well, if your generosity's greater than your pride, you can apologise to him: if your pride's greater than your generosity, waive the apology and sink the past. I've a fair idea what the quarrel's about," I added.
"I see." Sylvia brought flippancy into her tone when speaking of something too serious to be treated seriously: the flippancy was now ebbing away, and leaving her implacable and unyielding. "Is there any reason why I should do anything at all?" she asked.
I stretched out my hand to bid her good-bye. "I've not done it well," I admitted, "but the advice was not bad, and the spirit was really good."
"Admirable," she answered ironically. "I should be glad of such a champion. Have you given him any advice?"
"What d'you suggest?"
Sylvia knelt on the edge of a sofa, clasping her hands lazily behind her head.