"It's home," replied Septimus, with an approving glance around the little dining-room. "You must get me a flat just like this."
"Close by?"
"If it's too close I might come here too often."
"Do you think that possible?" she said, with as much wistfulness as she dare allow herself. "Besides, you have a right."
Septimus explained that as a Master of Arts of the University of Cambridge he had a right to play marbles on the Senate House steps, a privilege denied by statute to persons in statu pupillari, but that he would be locked up as a lunatic if he insisted on exercising it.
After a pause Emmy looked at him, and said with sudden tragicality:
"I'm not a horrible, hateful worry to you, Septimus?"
"Lord, no," said Septimus.
"You don't wish you had never set eyes on me?"
"My dear girl!" said Septimus.