"I could do with a cup of tea. Oh! And there's jam!" exclaimed Violet.
Henry was shocked. More expense. Must they be eating all day? Nevertheless, they sat down.
"I'm afraid I'm about done for," said Henry sadly, disheartened. "My knee."
His knee was not troubling him in the least, but a desperate plan for cutting short the honeymoon and going home had seized him. He had decided that the one cure for him was to be at home alone with her. He had had enough, more than enough, of the licence of the West End. He wanted tranquillity. He wanted to know where he was.
"Your knee. Oh, Henry! I'm so sorry. What can we do?"
"We can go home," he replied succinctly.
"But the big cinema, and all that?"
"Well, we've seen one. I feel I should like to be at home."
"Oh, but——!"
Violet was strangely disturbed. He could not understand her agitation. Surely they could visit the big cinema another night. He was determined. He said to himself that he must either go home or go mad. The monster had come back upon him in ruthless might. To placate the monster he must at any cost bear Violet down. He did bear her down, and she surrendered with a soft and deferential amiability which further endeared her to him. They partook of tea and jam; she discharged the bill, and they departed.