"May I just say that nothing of this sort could ever have happened if--if you didn't go away just a _little_ too much? From the very first you know you were always absolutely free. I've the greatest horror of bothering you, or tyrannising in any way, but don't you think it's gone a little too far? If we hadn't been rather separated, I couldn't have made such a mistake about you. Suppose you'd found, privately locked up, a similar portrait of Bertie Wilton, say, wouldn't _you_ have thought things?" "Wilton's an ass," said Chetwode. "But he does _know_. To give him his due, I couldn't have found a similar portrait of him. He isn't capable of allowing such a thing to exist." "Well, say a good portrait," said Felicity. "Do let us be perfectly frank with each other." "We will," said Chetwode. "I _am_ rather sick of Wilton." "He's really an awfully good boy," said Felicity. "Then let him be a good boy somewhere else. I'm tired of him." "I'll see less of him," she answered. "Good!" said Chetwode. "And--I know it was a very long speech I made just now, but don't you think I'm right?" "I didn't hear," he answered. "I was listening to your voice." "Then must I say it all over again? I _really_ want you to take it in, Chetwode," she said pleadingly. "Say it all over again, and as much more as you like, dear." "And then will you tell me you haven't heard?" He threw down the newspaper. "Very likely. I shall have been looking at your lips." CHAPTER XXV THE QUARREL "The other day," said Sylvia, "you were perfectly sweet to me. I was really happy; I knew you loved me, and that was quite enough. Now again I feel that miserable doubtfulness." "May I ask," said Woodville, who was sitting in front of a pile of papers, while Sylvia was leaning her head on her hand opposite him at the table, "how it is that you're here again?" He spoke in a tone that was carefully not affectionate and that he tried not to make irritable. "Certainly. I arranged to go out with Felicity--before papa--and then I telephoned to her that I had a headache." "Isn't that what you did on Thursday?" "No; on Thursday I said I was going to the dentist. And came in here instead." "Do you intend to do this often?" he asked. "Yes, continually." He rustled the papers. "Why shouldn't I? Don't you like it?" she said. "I can't help thinking it's rather risky. Suppose Felicity comes and finds you in blooming health?" "Surely I can recover from my headache if I like? Besides, she telephoned to me to get some aspirin. She won't expect me to be down till this afternoon, and she won't come till then." "_Did_ you get some?" "Frank, what idiotic questions you ask!" There was a pause. "Don't you think, dear," she said, "this is very jolly, to arrange to have two hours like this alone together?" "Oh, delightful! But I don't see what's the good of it, as we're placed." "Not to have a nice quiet talk?" "I have nothing to talk about." He seemed nervous.