The May air was cold and she shivered in her thin gown. The lamps shone dimly through the mist; many carriages drove across the square. She could hear the tinkling of the harness-bells in the gateway; the footman was tramping up and down below.
She turned and stood at the window and looked at Cordt. He had moved his chair round towards the fireplace. She could see nothing of him but one shoulder and arm, his thick hair and his legs.
“The carriage is there,” she said.
He rose and went to her.
“You must not be angry with me,” he said, gently. “I am out of sorts.”
“Are you ill?”
“Yes ... perhaps.... No, not that.”
“Well, for all that I care, we can stay at home. You have spoilt my pleasure.”
“Have I?”
“Of course you have. It was for you I made myself look so nice ... it was with you I wanted to go out.”