pride and insouciance. I hate myself serious.’

‘Why shouldn’t you be serious?’ she said.

He thought for a minute, then he said, sulkily:

‘I don’t know.’ Then they walked on in silence, at outs. He was vague and lost.

‘Isn’t it strange,’ she said, suddenly putting her hand on his arm, with a loving impulse, ‘how we always talk like this! I suppose we do love each other, in some way.’

‘Oh yes,’ he said; ‘too much.’

She laughed almost gaily.

‘You’d have to have it your own way, wouldn’t you?’ she teased.