Her voice had the shrewish tone it sometimes got.

“It’s not very lively, always going about with you.  It’s always do you love me, do you love me, till I just get about sick of it.”

(He knew it was madness to go on asking her that, but he could not help himself.

“Oh, I like you all right,” she would answer.

“Is that all?  I love you with all my heart.”

“I’m not that sort, I’m not one to say much.”

“If you knew how happy just one word would make me!”

“Well, what I always say is, people must take me as they find me, and if they don’t like it they can lump it.”

But sometimes she expressed herself more plainly still, and, when he asked the question, answered: 

“Oh, don’t go on at that again.”

Then he became sulky and silent.  He hated her.)

And now he said: 

“Oh, well, if you feel like that about it I wonder you condescend to come out with me at all.”

“It’s not my seeking, you can be very sure of that, you just force me to.”

His pride was bitterly hurt, and he answered madly.

“You think I’m just good enough to stand you dinners and theatres when there’s no one else to do it, and when someone else turns up I can go to hell.  Thank you, I’m about sick of being made a convenience.”

“I’m not going to be talked to like that by anyone.  I’ll just show you how much I want your dirty dinner.”

She got up, put on her jacket, and walked quickly out of the restaurant.  Philip sat on.  He determined he would not move, but ten minutes afterwards he jumped in a cab and followed her.  He guessed that she would take a ’bus to Victoria, so that they would arrive about the same time.  He saw her on the platform, escaped her notice, and went down to Herne Hill in the same train.  He did not want to speak to her till she was on the way home and could not escape him.

As soon as she had turned out of the main street, brightly lit and noisy with traffic, he caught her up.

“Mildred,” he called.

She walked on and would neither look at him nor answer.  He repeated her name.  Then she stopped and faced him.

“What d’you want?  I saw you hanging about Victoria.  Why don’t you leave me alone?”

“I’m awfully sorry.  Won’t you make it up?”

“No, I’m sick of your temper and your jealousy.  I don’t care for you, I never have cared for you, and I never shall care for you.  I don’t want to have anything more to do with you.”

She walked on quickly, and he had to hurry to keep up with her.

“You never make allowances for me,” he said.  “It’s all very well to be jolly and amiable when you’re indifferent to anyone.  It’s very hard when you’re as much in love as I am.  Have mercy on me.  I don’t mind that you don’t care for me.  After all you can’t help it.  I only want you to let me love you.”