"Do take away your arm, please, Hubert! I want to talk to you, and I cannot if it is there."
"Then we will leave it there. I don't think I want to talk, darling. I am very tired—I think I must have walked miles last night before I came back to this door to hand my lady out of her carriage, and I want to be petted and spoken to kindly."
Cynthia's fingers twitched and she turned her head aside, but not before Hubert had noticed the peculiar expression that crossed her face. Being a play-writer and constant theatre-goer, his mind was full of theatrical reminiscences. He remembered at that moment to have noticed that peculiar twitch, that odd expression of countenance, in Sarah Bernhardt when she was acting the part of a profoundly jealous woman. It had then meant, "Go to my rival, to her whom you love, and be comforted—do not come to me!" But there was no likeness between the great tragic actress and Cynthia West either of character or of circumstance; and Cynthia had no cause to be jealous. But he thought of the momentary impression afterwards.
She turned her face back again with as sweet a smile as ever.
"You think you must always have your own way; but I want to be considered too. I have something to tell you, and I shall not be happy until it is said. If you are tired, you shall sit down in this chair—it is much more comfortable than it looks—and have some tea, and then we can talk. But Madame may be in by half-past six, and I want to get it all over before she comes."
"'Getting it all over' sounds as if something disagreeable were to follow!" said Hubert, releasing her and taking the chair she proffered. "No tea, thank you; I had some at my club before I came. Now what is it, dear? But sit down; I can't sit, you know, if you stand."
"I must stand," said Cynthia, with a touch of imperiousness. "I am the criminal, and you are the judge. The criminal always stands."
"It is a very innocent criminal and a very unworthy judge in this instance. 'Sit, Jessica.'"
She laughed and drew a chair forward. Sitting down, he saw that her figure fell at once into a weary, languid attitude, and that the smile faded suddenly from her face. He put his hand on hers.
"What is it, my dearest?" he said, seriously this time.