her, she had a revulsion from him. He was a bit repulsive to her. And she knew he had always been so.
"Ah, well!" said Jack. "Cheery-o! We aren't such fools as we seem. The milk's spilt, we won't sulk over it."
"No, don't," cried Harriet. "I hate sulky people."
"So do I, Mrs Somers, worse than water in my beer," said Jack genially. "You and me, we're not going to fall out, are we?"
"No," said Harriet. "I don't fall out with people—and I don't let them fall out with me."
"Quite right. Don't give 'em a chance, eh? You're tight of it. You and me are pals, aren't we?"
"Yes," said Harriet easily, as if she were talking to some child she must soothe. "We're pals. But why didn't you bring your wife? I'm so fond of her."
"Oh, Vicky's all right. She's A 1 stuff. She thinks the world of you, you know. By golly, she does; she thinks the world of you."
"Then why didn't you bring her to see me?"
"Eh? Why didn't I? Oh—well—let me see—why, she'd got her married sister and so forth come to see her, so she couldn't leave them. But she sent her love, and all that sort of sweet nothing, you know. I told her I should never have the face to repeat it, you know. I was to give you heaps of love. 'Heaps of love to Mrs Somers!' Damn it, I said, how do I know she wants me dumping down heaps of love on her. But that was the message—heaps of love to Mrs Somers, and don't you forget it. I'm not likely to forget it, by gee! There aren't two Mrs Somers in the universe: I'm ready to bet all I've got on that. Ay, and a bit over. Now, look here, Mrs Somers, between you and me and the bed-post—"
"Do you mean Lovat is the bed-post?" put in Harriet. "He's silent enough for one."
Jack glanced at Somers, and also relapsed into silence.
