He was a nice boy, and a most congenial companion.

He never bored her, as did some others; and he was always thoughtful of cushions and footstools and cups of tea when one was tired.

He was, in fact, an ideal friend, just the sort she wanted; and it was such a pity that he must spoil it all now with this silly sentimentality! And of course he had spoiled it all.

There was no going back now to their old friendliness.

He would be morose or silly by turns, according to whether she frowned or smiled; or else he would take himself off in a tragic sort of way that was very disturbing.