She had quite mastered her emotion and Gregory could look up at her frankly. "Isn't there something I could send you," he said, "to help to pass the time? Magazines? Do you have them? And sweets? Do you like sweets?" His manner was half playful and he smiled at her as he might have smiled at a young school-girl. If only those wide braids under the little cap had been hanging over her shoulders the manner would have been justified. As it was, Gregory felt with some bewilderment that his behaviour was hardly normal. He was not in the habit of offering magazines and sweets to young women. But his solicitude expressed itself in these unconventional forms and luckily she found nothing amiss with them. She was accustomed, no doubt, to a world where such offerings passed freely.
"It is very kind of you," said Miss Woodruff. "I should indeed like to see a review now and then. Mr. Drew is writing another little article on my guardian, in one of this month's reviews, I did not hear which one; and I would like to see that very much. But sweets? No; when I like them I like them too much and eat too many and then I am sorry. Please don't send me sweets." She was smiling.
"What do you like to eat, then, that doesn't make you sorry—even when you eat a great deal?"
"Roast-beef!" she said, laughing, and the tip of her tongue was caught between her teeth. He was charmed to feel that, for the moment, at least, he had won her from her sadness.
"But you get roast-beef in Cornwall."
"Oh, excellent. I will not have roast-beef, please."
"Fruit, then? You like fruit?"
"Yes; indeed."
"And you don't get much fruit in Cornwall in winter."
"Only apples," she confessed, "and dried apricots."