Diana leant forward and cut a very large slice.
"No, really, thank you," I insisted.
"Right; this is for me."
"Diana," I said, "I've something on my chest." She looked surprised. "Yes, there's something on my chest. I speak in a spiritual sense."
"Well, hadn't you better tell me what it is, dear?"
"I will," I said stoutly. "Diana, this—this engagement can't go on." There was no fire in the room, so I gazed blankly into the radiator.
"What on earth do you mean, Dick?"
"It can't go on," I repeated.
"Why? Dick, you're joking."
"Joking!" I laughed a hollow mocking laugh. "Don't make it hard for me, Diana."