"And you are the most exasperatingly dull man," Myra retorted, still
half-laughing, half-crying. "Oh, Tony, my dear, take care of me and
love me terribly if you want to keep me. Hold me fast and grapple me
to you with hooks of steel, or you will lose me."

She almost hurled herself into Tony's arms, buried her face in his
shoulder, and burst into tears. Tony did not know what to make of it
at all, and he felt utterly helpless. Agitatedly he patted her on the
back and stroked her hair.

"Myra, for heaven's sake don't cry," he said, in what was intended to
be a soothing tone. "You make me feel so bally awful. I've never seen
you crying before, and I can't make out what is the matter. What on
earth has upset you, darling? You're quite hysterical. Hadn't I
better ring for your maid, dear?"

Poor Tony did not realise how sadly he was blundering, how sorely he
was failing in an emergency.

"Oh, why can't you understand!" burst out Myra passionately. "Why
can't you love in the right way? Don't pat my head and my back as if I
were a pet dog, you ninny! Tony, I--I--oh, I can't bear it!"

She broke from him and rushed from the room, banging the door behind
her.

"Well I'm sunk!" muttered Tony, distractedly running his fingers
through his sandy hair. "What on earth is a fellow to do in these
circumstances? I hope to goodness Myra won't carry on like this after
we are married, or I shall never know where I am. I wonder what upset
her?"