“Where are you going?”
“I’m driving over to see old Potts at Herne about some sheep.”
“Is that all? Don’t you think you might stay in for an afternoon when I ask you?”
“Why?” he replied. “There’s nothing to do in here. Nobody is coming, I suppose.”
“I want to be with you, Eddie,” she said, plaintively.
He laughed. “I’m afraid I can’t break an appointment just for that.”
“Shall I come with you then?”
“What on earth for?” he asked, with surprise.
“I want to be with you; I hate being always separated from you.”
“But we’re not always separated. Hang it all, it seems to me that we’re always together.”