His silence told her that he was not deceived. ‘Anyway,’ she said lightly, ‘there’s one bad thing over in my life: falling in love, I mean. I’m _free_ of it!’ ‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous, my dear child! _Don’t_ be such a fool! Why, you haven’t mastered your infant primer yet. _I_ know! Do you mean to tell me this unknown fellow has absorbed all your powers of loving to the end of your life? I’m sorry then: you’re less of a person than I thought you. Ah, you think I’m mocking, and you hate me. And I do mock. Yes, yes! And I’m so sorry for you I---- But of course you won’t believe that.’ He spoke with passion, slowing the car down till she scarcely crawled, then finally stopping her altogether by the edge of the road, beneath an overhanging rocky hillside. It was getting very dark: she felt rather than saw the tense expression of his eyes and mouth. ‘You won’t believe that,’ he repeated, ‘and you’re thinking at this moment that such a brute as I never before existed.’ ‘No.’ She felt dazed. ‘I think you’re meaning to be kind. But you don’t understand.’ ‘Aha! Of course not. How can a coarse male animal like myself understand the feelings of a refined and sensitive young lady?’ ‘Oh, Julian--unfair ... unkind!’ ‘Well, _damn_ you, don’t you see I love you myself?’ he cried in a perfect fury. ‘Here am I, alone with you at last for a paltry ten days--after waiting years, mind you, _years_ for my opportunity, and I find you moping and moaning over your lost schoolgirl illusions! Good God! Haven’t you the guts to snap your fingers at a fellow who can’t be bothered with you? Aren’t you attractive and intelligent? Can’t you laugh? Aren’t there plenty of others? What am I here for? Go to the devil for a bit--I’ll help you. I’ll see you through it. But _don’t moan_.’ He paused for breath, and went on: ‘Here am I, as I said, with ten days of your company as my limit--ten days in which to make you _look back_ into my eyes, not through them, to make you stop smiling and being polite and tolerant and sorry for me--oh, anything rather than your damned indifference! Why don’t you hate me? I could do some good with you then. I thrive on hatred. Here am I, of all people, not able to sleep or eat for wanting to kiss you, shaking all over when I see you coming, raging when you talk to another man--and here are you, making a fool of yourself--obstinately wasting our time making a romantic fool of yourself.’ ‘Well, we’re quits then,’ she interrupted quickly. ‘I love without being loved and I’m a fool. I agree with you. You love without being loved. You’re another.’ He turned to her and said delightedly: ‘You’re angry. I’ve stung you up. You’ve lost your temper.’ ‘Oh, you’re impossible.’