'God, you've got such a telling way of putting things, Rupert, you have.' Birkin's heart sank.

He was irritated and weary of having a telling way of putting things.
'Won't you leave it?
Come over to my place'-- he urged as one urges a drunken man.
'No,' said Gerald coaxingly, his arm across the other man's shoulder.
'Thanks very much, Rupert--I shall be glad to come tomorrow, if that'll do.

You understand, don't you?
I want to see this job through.

But I'll come tomorrow, right enough.

Oh, I'd rather come and have a chat with you than--than do anything else, I verily believe.