"Is Dicky invited?"
"Of course. But I'm not sure that I want him."
"He wouldn't come if he knew that you felt like that."
"It isn't anything personal. And you know my manner is perfect when I'm with him."
"Yes. Poor Dicky. Pip, we are a pair of deceivers. I sometimes think I ought to tell him."
"There's nothing to tell."
"Nothing tangible,—but he's so straightforward. And he'd hate the idea that I'm letting you—make love to me."
"I don't make love. I have never touched the tip of your finger."
"Pip! Of course not. But your eyes make love, and your manner—and deep down in my heart I am afraid."
"Afraid of what?"