“You are a nut! Ha! ha! ha!”
“How am I a nut? You must be thinking about your old machine out there.”
Butcher composed himself—theatrically.
“I was laughing at you. You repent of your thoughtlessness, and all that. Your next step is to put it right. I was laughing at the way you go about it. You now proceed kindly but firmly to break off your engagement and discard the girl. That is very neat.”
“Do you think so? Well, perhaps it is a trifle over-tidy. I hadn’t looked at it in that way.”
“You can’t be too tidy,” Butcher said dogmatically. He talked to Tarr, when a little worked up, as Tarr talked to him. He didn’t notice that he did. It was partly câlinerie and flattery.
Tarr pulled out a very heavy and determined-looking watch. He would have suffered had he been compelled to use a small watch. For the time to be microscopic and noiseless would be unbearable. The time must be human. That he insisted on. And it must not be pretty or neat.
“It is late. I must go. Must you get back to Passy or can you stop?”
“Do you know, I’m afraid I must get back. I have to lunch with a fellow at one, who is putting me on to a good thing. But can I take you anywhere? Or are you lunching here?”
“No.—Take me as far as the Samaritaine, will you?”