"With his hair on?"
She laughed.
"That means more brandy. Samson was double as strong, you know, with his hair on."
"I see."
The silence was resumed. Only the tick-tack of the tall clock and the splashing of the Twins disturbed it. She turned to glance at him once, and then, seeing his gaze fixed upon the fire that twinkled on the rim of his spectacles and emphasised the hollows of his face, had looked for a moment more boldly before she bent over her task again.
"She is quite beautiful, but—"
He spoke in a dreamy abstracted tone, as if addressing the pot-hooks. Tamsin started, set down the pan with a clatter, and turned sharply round.
"Eh?" said Mr. Fogo, aroused by the clatter, "you were saying—?" And then it struck him that he had spoken aloud. He broke off, and looked up with appealing helplessness.
There was a second's pause.
"You were saying—"