"You needn't always be so sharp with me, Cicely," he complained.
"You shouldn't say stupid things."
Both were silent for a space and then in a low mournful voice he said:
"I wish I knew how to win your sympathy, Cicely. You don't absolutely hate me, do you?"
"Of course I don't hate you. But the way to get a girl's sympathy is not always to keep asking for it."
He looked displeased again.
"I don't believe you know what I mean!"
"I don't believe you do either."
He grew tender.
"Your sympathy, Cicely, would make all the difference to my life!"
"Now, Malcolm" she began in a warning voice.
"Oh, I am not asking you to love me again," he assured her quickly. "It is only sympathy I demand!"
"But you mix them up so easily. It isn't safe to give you anything."
"I won't again!" he assured her.
"Well," she said, though not very sympathetically, "what do you want to be sympathised with about now?"
"When you offer me sympathy in that tone, I can't give you my confidence!" he said unhappily.
"Really, Malcolm, how can I possibly tell what your confidence is going to be beforehand? Perhaps it won't deserve sympathy."
