She ran out to the kitchenette to put fresh tea in the pot. From there she called: "Wenny, bring the debris, I'll leave it for the maid to clean up." The glasses in a row along a shelf whined with the vibration of her voice. She felt all at once curiously constrained. Absurd. She'd known Wenny when he was in knickerbockers. Why should it embarrass her to be alone with him in the kitchenette? The tea sizzled faintly, and the steam came up scalding in her face as she poured the boiling water into the pot. She did not turn around she was flushing so, when he heard Wenny's step and the rattle of china behind her. "After the battle mother," sang Wenny as he put the tea things down beside the sink. "Here, you cut this lemon and bring it in, Wenny, if you don't mind," she said and fled with the pot and a couple of clean cups into the other room. Fanshaw's voice was always so soothing when one was excited. "There's still a bit of the afterglow," said Fanshaw from near the window. "It's wonderful how long it lingers these fall evenings." Wenny had come back with the lemon and dropped a piece into each of the three cups. Then he sniffed at his hands. "That's a splendid lemon. It's wonderful how good it makes your fingers smell." She watched his lips form the words. Semetic lips, like in the Assyrians in the museum, she thought. "Gertrude said"; Fanshaw was taking little sips of tea as he spoke, "You'ld be taken up with the spirits." "Not gin I hope." She tossed her head up suddenly, lips pressed together. Fine gesture that, whispered some mocking demon in her. Fanshaw smiled indulgently with thin lips. "No, I mean spooks," he said. "Gertrude said you did extraordinary things with a ouija board. She's very silly, you know." "Made me out a regular witch of Endor, did she?" Her voice was tense in spite of herself. "O, I hate the longfaced way people talk about that guff ... as if people dead could be more important than people alive," Wenny blurted out angrily. Nan found herself looking in his eyes; the black pupils widened as she looked in them. There was a warmth about her body as if his vehemence had communicated itself to her. Then the eyes flashed away. "What nonsense, Wendell," she said. "Don't be so silly. I just played with a ouija board to see what people would say. We talked to Robinson Crusoe." Fanshaw waved a long thin hand in the air. "For Heaven's sake, don't squabble. After all those young women, I feel weak. There must have been a thousand of them ... I say, Nan, did you invite the whole conservatory?" "No, but as they were all dying to say they'd been in the same room with Salinski, I went the limit." "You certainly did."