Now I think you must be rather splendid; but not Mr.Hirst." Hewlet shook his head.
"He's not nearly so unselfish, or so sympathetic, or so big, or so understanding," Evelyn continued.
Hewet sat silent, smoking his cigarette.
"I should hate cutting down trees," he remarked.
"I'm not trying to flirt with you, though I suppose you think I am!" Evelyn shot out.

"I'd never have come to you if I'd thought you'd merely think odious things of me!" The tears came into her eyes.
"Do you never flirt ?" he asked.
"Of course I don't," she protested.

"Haven't I told you?
I want friendship; I want to care for some one greater and nobler than I am, and if they fall in love with me it isn't my fault; I don't want it; I positively hate it." Hewet could see that there was very little use in going on with the conversation, for it was obvious that Evelyn did not wish to say anything in particular, but to impress upon him an image of herself, being, for some reason which she would not reveal, unhappy, or insecure.
He was very tired, and a pale waiter kept walking ostentatiously into the middle of the room and looking at them meaningly.
"They want to shut up," he said.

"My advice is that you should tell Oliver and Perrott to-morrow that you've made up your mind that you don't mean to marry either of them.

I'm certain you don't.