But I thought you loathed music." "It certainly depends on who makes it," said Aunt Barbara.

"I don't like ordinary music, because the person who made it doesn't matter to me.
But if, so to speak, it sounds like somebody I know, it is a different matter." Michael turned to Sylvia.
"I want to ask your leave for something I have already done," he said.
"And if I don't give it you ?" "Then I shan't tell you what it is." Sylvia looked at him with her candid friendly eyes.

Her brother always told her that she never looked at anybody except her friends; if she was engaged in conversation with a man she did not like, she looked at his shirt-stud or at a point slightly above his head.
"Then, of course, I give in," she said.

"I must give you leave if otherwise I shan't know what you have done.

But it's a mean trick.