“I don’t seem to be able to keep away from you for long,” he sighed. “Can I see you alone?”
Muriel glanced at him quickly. There was an expression of ludicrous agony upon his face, and she knew full well what he had come to say to her. “Let’s have tea, first,” she answered. “It will fortify us.”
He stared anxiously at her, but all further preliminary remarks were checked by the entrance of Kate Bindane; and soon two or three callers were ushered in.
It was a long time before he managed successfully to outstay the other visitors; but at length he found himself alone with Muriel. The removal of the tea-tray caused another interruption; and he refrained with difficulty from cursing aloud when the footman again entered to switch on the lights.
At last, however, the moment for his declaration arrived, and Muriel settled herself down upon the cushions of the sofa to hear him, as though she were preparing to listen to a recital upon the grand piano. “Now tell me,” she said, “what it is that you want to say to me.”
He was standing in front of her, the fingers of his hand scratching his ear. He cleared his throat. “Well, it’s like this,” he began. “Ever since I’ve known you I’ve felt that there was something lacking in my life....”
“I was wondering how you’d begin,” she said, interrupting him.
He flushed, and hastened on with his prepared speech. “Even soldiers, you know, long for the comforts of home. I suppose every Englishman likes to think of his own fireside....”
“Not in this weather, surely,” she put in, again interrupting him.
He hurried on. “... With the woman he loves, seated before him, after the day’s toil is over.”