'I am perhaps not jealous where Miloradovitch is concerned,' she said.
'Then spare me the compliment of being jealous of me. You wreck affection; you will wreck your life through your jealousy and exorbitance.'
'No doubt,' she replied in a tone of so much sadness that he became remorseful. He contrasted, moreover, her violence, troublesome, inconvenient, as it often was, with the standardised and distasteful little inanities of Fru Thyregod and her like, and found Eve preferable.
'Darling, you never defend yourself; it is very disarming.'
But she would not accept the olive-branch he offered.
'Sentimentality becomes you very badly, Julian; keep it for Fru Thyregod.'
'We have had enough of Fru Thyregod,' he said, flushing.
'It suits you to say so; I do not forget so easily. Really, Julian, sometimes I think you very commonplace. From the moment you arrived until to-day, you have never been out of Fru Thyregod's pocket. Like Alexander, once. Like any stray young man.'
'Eve!' he said, in astonishment at the outrageous accusation.