"If you are going to be my friend, of course I must say Dorris," he returned, leaning on the other side of the chair, thus preventing me from tilting it back and forth, and still looking as if he wished to laugh.
"I will not be your friend," I answered sullenly. "You said you did not wish it; and now I will not."
"You cannot be my enemy, for you have told me that you don't dislike me; and if you will be neither friend nor enemy, there is only one thing left for you to be, Dorris" (pleadingly).
Fortunately, at this moment my common sense asserted itself. I gave up the chair for support, and stood upright.
"True," I said; "and that one thing is indifferent. You are talking nonsense, Count Piloff."
"I dare say I am" (gravely); "and as I only came to see how your cold was, I will stay no longer. I have talked nonsense, as you say. Forget it: I promise never to offend again"; and before I could reply, he was gone.
I did not think he would leave so suddenly, and I would have liked to ask him a few questions; but perhaps it is better that I did not.
