' They sat
down by the fire. 'It's at eight tonight. Shall we have tea?'

'Oh no, thanks; isn't it too early? I sha'n't keep you a moment. Thanks
very much.... You were playing something when I came in. I wish you'd
play it to me over again.'

* * * * *

Nine women out of ten would have refused, saying they knew nothing of
music, or that they were out of practice, or that they never played
except for their own amusement, or something of the kind; especially if
they took no pride whatever in that accomplishment. But Edith went back
to the piano at once, and went on trying over the song that she didn't
know, without making any excuse for the faltering notes.

'That's charming,' he said. 'Thanks. Tosti, of course.'

She came back to the fireplace. 'Of course. We had great fun last
night, didn't we?'

'Oh, _I_ enjoyed myself immensely; part of the time at least.'

'But after dinner you were rather horrid, Mr Ross. You wouldn't come
and talk to me, would you?'

'Wouldn't I? I was afraid. Tell me, do I seem many years older since
last night?' he asked.

'I don't see any difference. Why?'

'Because I've lived months--almost years--since I saw you last. Time
doesn't go by hours, does it?... What a charming little room this is.
It suits you. There's hardly anything in it, but everything is right.'

'I don't like to have many things in a room,' said Edith, holding out
her delicate hands to the fire. 'It makes me nervous. I have gradually
accustomed Bruce to my idea by removing one thing at a time
--photographs, pictures, horrid old wedding presents, all the
little things people have. They suggest too many different trains of
thought. They worry me. He's getting used to it now. He says, soon
there'll be nothing left but a couple of chairs and a bookcase!'

'And how right! I've had rather the same idea in my house, but I
couldn't keep it up. It's different for a man alone; things seem to
accumulate; especially pictures. I know such a lot of artists. I'm very
unfortunate in that respect.... I really feel I oughtn't to have turned
up like this, Mrs Ottley.'

'Why not?'

'You're very kind.... Excuse my country manners, but how nice your
husband is. He was very kind to me.'

'He liked _you_ very much, too.'

'He seems charming,' he repeated, then said with a change of tone and
with his occasional impulsive brusqueness, 'I wonder--does he ever jar
on you in any way?'

'Oh no. Never. H