“Then what is it you dislike in me?” he suddenly demanded.
“I didn't say that I disliked anything in you.”
“But you have made fun of something in me?”
“No, no!”
“Then it wasn't the stirring of a guilty conscience when you asked me whether I should like to be made fun of? I took it for granted you'd been doing it.”
“You are very suspicious.”
“Yes; and what else?”
“Oh, you like to know just what every one thinks and feels.”
“Go on!” cried Staniford. “Analyze me, formulate me!”
“That's all.”