“I don’t make it difficult,” he said. “I only want to find out just what you are after. But you don’t really know yourself. You want to take time: get away and look at it. I don’t blame you. I think you’re wise. You may prefer to stay mistress of Wragby. I don’t blame you. I’ve no Wragbys to offer. In fact, you know what you’ll get out of me. No, no, I think you’re right! I really do! And I’m not keen on coming to live on you, being kept by you. There’s that too.”

She felt, somehow, as if he were giving her tit for tat.

“But you want me, don’t you?” she asked.

“Do you want me?”

“You know I do. That’s evident.”

“Quite! And when do you want me?”