“You will take them some day?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why don’t you want to, Elfride Swancourt?”
“Because I don’t. I don’t like to take them.”
“I have read a fact of distressing significance in that,” said Knight. “Since you like them, your dislike to having them must be towards me?”
“No, it isn’t.”
“What, then? Do you like me?”
Elfride deepened in tint, and looked into the distance with features shaped to an expression of the nicest criticism as regarded her answer.
“I like you pretty well,” she at length murmured mildly.
“Not very much?”