It was essentially a man's room. Comfortable, but not exactly luxurious; very little was sacrificed to decoration.
There were a few very old dark pictures on the walls. The room was crammed with books in long, low bookcases. On the mantelpiece was a pewter vase of cerise-coloured carnations.
An uncut English Review was in his hand, but he threw it on the floor with a characteristic gesture as she came in.
'You look very comfortable,' said Edith, as she took her seat in the arm-chair placed for her.
He answered gravely, speaking in his direct, quick way, with his sincere manner:
'It was very good of you to come.'
'Shall I pour out your tea?'
'Yes. Let's have tea and get it over.'
She laughed, took off her gloves, and he watched her fingers as they occupied themselves with the china, as though he were impatient for the ceremony to be finished.
While she poured it out and handed it to him he said not a word. She saw that he looked pale and seemed rather nervous. Each tried to put the other at ease, more by looks than words. Edith saw it would worry him to make conversation. They knew each other well enough to exchange ideas without words.