Now that I see that your intention is to be perfectly
reasonable, I would--willingly. Why not? I don't see why we should
be enemies."
"No," said Sally quickly; "neither do I--neither do I."
He drank through his tea. One mouthful--they were such tiny cups;
but that is the way a man takes his entertainment.
"Have a good time down at Cailsham?" he asked presently.
He felt more at his ease. She was taking it well--so much better than
he expected.
"Oh, not very good. I have told you, haven't I, that I don't get on
very well with my people."
"Of course; yes. Isn't that rather a pity?"
Possibly conscience was plying its spurs. There was some suggestion
underlying the quietness of her manner which he found to bring a sense
of uneasiness. He would have preferred that she had got on well at
Cailsham. He would rather that she had taken a fancy to Devenish.
But she was reasonable--extremely reasonable. He had nothing to
grumble at. Yet he could not get away from the sense of something
that made each word they said drag slowly, unnaturally into utterance.
He tried to shake it from him.
"Well, what is it you've got to speak to me about?" he asked in a
fresh tone of voice, as if with a jerk they were starting again over
lighter ground.
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