"Take her; amuse yourself.

I don't want her." Grandcourt inspected his cigar again.

"I'm tired of that sort of thing, too," he said.
"What sort of thing ?" "Contenting myself with what you don't want." Dysart lit a cigarette, still smiling, then shrugged and turned as though to go.

Around them through the smoke rose the laughing clamour of young men gathering at the exit.
"I want to tell you something," said Grandcourt heavily.

"I'm an ass to do it, but I want to tell you." Dysart halted patiently.
"It's this," went on Grandcourt: "between you and my mother, I've never had a chance; she makes me out a fool and you have always assumed it to be true." Dysart glanced at him with amused contempt.
A heavy flush rose to Grandcourt's cheek-bones.