“Was it?”
He took her hand and drew her to the fire:
“Sit down, Adelheid ... there ... only for a minute. Shall we stay at home to-night ... get some wine ... have a party of our own...?”
“Yes ... you’re in such a festive mood!”
“Now be good, Adelheid. You are my only dissipation.... You know you are ... there have been hundreds of delightful days to prove it. If you are of my mind to-night, we will do this. And you will be beautiful for me and I for you and our eyes will sparkle together.”
She did not look at him, but shook her head:
“I will stay at home, if you wish it,” she said.
They sat silent. The candles on the mantelpiece flickered and guttered in the draught.
“It is strange,” he said. “Do you remember the evening in London, Adelheid, when we were to go to that great ball? Then I begged you to stay at home and you did and you were glad.”
She lay far back in her chair, with her arms behind her neck: