“But this is an unusually open winter; it’s perfectly delightful outdoors to-day. And the sky would be blue if you could see it.” She raised her eyes to the window to verify his statement. “I suppose,” he said, without changing the key of their dialogue, “that we could keep this up for several days if it seemed necessary.” “I think so myself!” she affirmed; “it would be interesting to see how long one could go on being perfectly stupid. It’s a great resource, talking stupid talk.” “The only trouble is that it’s such a waste of time. There are so many interesting things to say!” “Do you mean that you would say them? How very odd!” She threaded a needle, with the pretty solicitude, the graceful, bird-like intentness with which a woman performs this slightest office, and he was aware of his joy in the nimbleness of her fingers, and their steadiness as they answered the quick searching of her eyes with the point of thread. “Would you rather not refer to it at all?” he asked. “Oh, my not going? Why should anything be said about a matter that has already been fully explained? You are a man; you have been on a journey; you have been down in the city all morning; have you nothing to say to an unfortunate slave, who has been shut up here with her needle three long days?” “The slavery of the needle is too satisfying a spectacle in itself to admit of any coarser topic. I should judge”--and he bent nearer--“I should judge, if my dull masculine eye is competent to pass on such a thing, that your industry has been of rather recent date. You hadn’t been at work on that thing all morning.” “Oh, no! But I have had ever so many other things to do this morning; this is a large establishment and the housekeeping--the making sure that there is sugar for the coffee and coffee for the sugar--takes a lot of time.” “One has always the neighbours in case of shortage. If your abandonment of the Boston excursion is a painful topic, we will drop it. Besides, I know the real reason you didn’t go.” “Is it possible? Then you ought to give mind-reading exhibitions. I’ve begged Fanny to teach me how to do table tipping; I’ve heard that she’s a wonder at it; and they say it runs in families.” “Have you seen Fanny?” “Why, no! I dare say she imagines I went away. The newspapers had it that I had gone, and of course they are always right.” “Of course she will find it out; Fanny knows everything!” “I hadn’t thought of telling her; it seemed to me that this was a fine chance to get a rest--to play at leading a very, very lonely life, not letting anyone know I am here by myself.” “But that has lost its point, now that I am here. The king has gone a-hunting; the prince--if I may so honour myself--has come to defend the citadel. How do you like that way of putting it?”