"Do you know," she asked, "that tea is worthless if it stands for more than five minutes?"
She filled a cup, and gave it to him with a hand that trembled slightly. He sipped, and scalded his lip.
"Tamsin—"
"My name is Dearlove," she said shortly, "and you are spilling the tea."
There was silence for a minute or so. Mr. Fogo stirred his tea abstractedly. Tamsin, whose shoes were soaked, put one foot upon the fender, and bent her gaze upon the fire.
"I would give something," observed Mr. Fogo suddenly, in desperate reverie, "to know how other people manage it. It was moonlight when I proposed to Geraldine. I began by squeezing her hand, if I remem—"
He looked up, and found her regarding him with eyes ablaze.
But luckily at this moment the door opened, and Caleb appeared. He was evidently much agitated; but at sight of Tamsin and the woeful figure in the armchair, he halted on the threshold and stared dumbly.
"I think," said Tamsin, "you had better put your master to bed."
"Mussy 'pon us, what's been doin'?"