"Ask her to come up," he said.
She came in. She wore (as Sabre saw it) "a pale-blue sort of thing" and "a sort of black hat." He had considered it as an odd thing, in his thoughts of her since their meeting, that, though he could always have some kind of notion what other women were wearing, he never could remember any detail of Nona's dress.
But it was her face he always looked at.
She stood still immediately she was across the threshold and the door closed behind her. She was smiling as though she felt herself to be up to some lark. "Hullo, Marko. Don't you hate me for coming in here like this?"
"It's jolly surprising."
"That's another way of saying it. Now if you'd said it was surprisingly jolly! Well, shake hands, Marko, and pretend you're glad."
He laughed and put out his hand. But she delayed response; she first slipped off the gauntlets she was wearing and then gave him her hand. "There!" she said.
"There!" It was as though she had now done something she much wanted to do; as one says "There!" on at last sitting down after much fatigue.
She tossed her gauntlets on to a chair. She walked past him towards the window. "You got my letter?"
"Yes."