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Her hands were now altogether withdrawn from him, and tears sparkled in her eyes. Edgar bent forward, so that she could not escape him.

"Look here, Patricia," he said. "Can you imagine the feeling of a lover who hears that the girl he loves has been making love to an obvious rotter the previous evening? I mean, if there's one thing that strikes me about Monty more than another it is his lack of ... what can I say?—his lack of.... I think he's obviously sensual and unclean. I can't see his fascination for you. If I came to you and said I'd been with some horrible woman, wouldn't you turn sick? Well, I'm disappointed. I'm angry. The love-making is nothing unless you meant it, which you didn't. It's nothing. You exaggerate its importance. You were never in any real danger. I don't blame you, except for folly. Though of course I don't like it. But that you should be taken in by Monty!"

"I wasn't taken in. I knew he must be a rotter. And yet, you see, I went there," said Patricia. "That shows the sort of girl I am. I was miserable and reckless. It amused me to—to play with him, if you like. It made me feel a woman. I was trying to grow up. You've made a mistake, Edgar." She was bitter, but not only with anger. There was hopelessness also in her defiance. "You ought to marry a nice girl."

"I propose to," said Edgar. "I propose to marry you."

"Oho!" cried Patricia. "You won't marry me. You needn't think it."

"Unless of course," retorted Edgar.... "Unless I adopt you. That might be the simpler course." He also for the moment was bitter with chagrin. He was encountering a fact which was hard to accept; and he was in love with Patricia.