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Updated: May 5, 2025
Barbara pouted and sat silent until she could launch an ultimatum as the cab stopped at her door. The success of his first night was making Eric masterful; and she wanted to test her power. "If I can't dine with you in the way I like . . ." she began fretfully. "You only want to shew me off to the O'Ranes. . . ." Eric forgave the petulance because he could see that she was tired.
Her use of the plural lost none of its charm by familiarity. "I'll come on Friday, if you like." "On Friday old Ettrick is giving a dinner in my honour at the club. What about Monday? But I shan't let you come alone; as a matter of fact, I've invited the O'Ranes for that night." "You don't like being alone with me?" "I'm thinking solely of what would be said."
"I don't ask you to say it's a good play," Eric observed to Barbara, as they rumbled slowly home from the O'Ranes' supper-party, "but is it less bad than the other?"
Looking out of the window, she saw that their cab was opposite the Ritz and that she had three hundred yards more of him. "Does it matter?" she asked. "If you're so independent of me?" "I can live without peach-brandy, but I like it. If you'll dine with me, I'll give you some and all the food you most like. I owe the O'Ranes a dinner " "Oh, we won't have any one else!" she interrupted.
But he was tired too. . . . "If you don't care about the O'Ranes, I'll see if I can get some one else some other time," he said. "It wouldn't do for you to dine with me alone." "I believe you're in love with Sonia," she rejoined ill-humouredly. "What nonsense! . . . Good-night, Babs. Thanks so much for coming." On reaching home, he wrote to invite Mrs. Shelley for Monday.
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