He gave it her. Watched her as she crossed the room to lay it on the chintz-covered settee, turned then to the fireplace, biting a nail between his teeth. "Do you know the kettle's boiling?" he forced himself to say. "Yes; I'm just going to make tea. You'll have some tea?" "Oh, rather. You promised that." He looked up with his old jerk of the head, courting the smile to her lips. She had no smile to give, and a shrug half tossed his shoulders. "Are you comfortable here?" he asked, as she poured out the boiling water. "Oh yes. Very." "God!" he said casually within himself, feeling the weight of the strain. Then he struggled for it once more. "I'm dining with Devenish this evening," he said lightly. "You remember Devenish, don't you?" "Oh yes--I remember him. He came up to see me here a few weeks ago." "Did he? He's a gay dog," he said lightly. "Do you like him?" "I haven't thought about it." "Oh, then you don't. And haven't you seen him since?" "No; I've been away." "Away?" "Yes; down at Cailsham--staying with my mother." "Oh, very nice, I should think. I'm glad you're moving about a bit. I was rather afraid, you know, that you'd hang about in town all through the summer, and that 'ud be bound to knock you up." She handed him his cup of tea. "Why were you afraid?" she asked. "Why? Do you think I'd be glad if you were knocked up?" He looked up at her, with raised eyebrows, not understanding. "I don't suppose you'd be sorry, would you?" She said it gently--no strain of bitterness. The emotion which had swept her at first was passed now. All her mind concentrated to the one end. "Of course I should," he replied. "Of course I should be sorry. Do you paint me in your mind the little boy dropped in and out of a love affair?" "Oh no." "Then why say that? Of course I should be sorry. Because you and I couldn't fit things properly together--" "Is that how it seems to you now?" she interrupted. "Well, could we? Is it any good going over it all again? Did you ever imagine me to be the type of man who would consent to being followed, as you followed me that night? I can't suppose you did; otherwise, would you have tried to hide it from me? But I don't lose any friendly regard for you because of that." "You don't object to being here, then?" she asked eagerly. "No; certainly not! Why should I?" "Would you come again if nothing of that were ever mentioned any more between us--would you come again?" "Yes, willingly. Now that I see that your intention is to be perfectly reasonable, I would--willingly. Why not? I don't see why we should be enemies." "No," said Sally quickly; "neither do I--neither do I." He drank through his tea. One mouthful--they were such tiny cups; but that is the way a man takes his entertainment. "Have a good time down at Cailsham?" he asked presently. He felt more at his ease. She was taking it well--so much better than he expected.