"I don't--I don't quite see the point of--of your--objection," he said, staring at her with a certain puzzled ruefulness. "What has my choice of a word got to do with it?" "To do with what?" she replied, instantly. "With what--with what we're going to talk about." "Since I haven't the faintest idea what we're going to talk about, how can I say?" "Look here!" He got up out of his chair and stood with his back to the fire. He kept a fretful silence for a moment and then said, with a sharp burst of exasperation: "Look here, I don't know what you're driving at! I only know that you're being most infernally rude!" "Don't forget that a moment ago you were asking me not to take offence." "You're damned clever, aren't you?" he almost snarled. That was all he could think of in the way of an answer to her. He stood there swaying lightly in front of the fire, nursing, as it were, his angry bafflement. "Thank you," she replied. "I regard that as a very high tribute. And I'm nearly as pleased at one other thing--I seem to have shaken you partly out of your delightful and infuriating urbanity.... But now, we're not here to compliment each other. You've got something you want to say to me, haven't you?" He stared at her severely and said: "Yes, I have. I want to ask you not to come here any more." "Why?" She shot the word out at him almost before he had finished speaking. "Because I don't wish you to." "You forget that I come at Helen's invitation, not at yours." "I see I shall have to tell you the real reason, then. I would have preferred not to have done. My wife is jealous of you." He expected her to show great surprise, but the surprise was his when she replied almost casually: "Oh yes, she was jealous of _you_ once--that first evening we met at the Head's house--do you remember?" No, he did not remember. At least, he did now that she called it to his memory, but he had not remembered until then. Curious ... He was half-disappointed that she was so calm and unconcerned about it all. He had anticipated some sort of a scene, either of surprise, remorse, indignation, or sympathy. Instead of which she just said "Oh, yes," and indulged in some perfectly irrelevant reminiscence. Well, not perhaps irrelevant, but certainly inappropriate in the circumstances. "You see," he went on, hating her blindly because she was so serene; "you see she generously invites you here, because she thinks I like you to come. Well, of course, I do, but then, I don't want to make it hard for her. You understand what I mean? I think it is very generous of her to--to act as she does." "I think it is very foolish unless she has the idea that in time she can conquer her jealousy.... But I quite understand, Mr. Speed. I won't come any more." "I hope you don't think----" "Fortunately I have other things to think about. I assure you I'm not troubling at all. Even loss of friendship----"