"Yes, thank you."
"I haven't," remarked Alwynne, with sufficient point. Roger rose.
"You'll excuse me, won't you? I've a busy morning ahead of me."
He got up. But in spite of his protestations of haste he still stood at the table, fidgeting over his pile of circulars and seed catalogues, while he coughed the preliminary cough of a man who has something to say, and no idea of how to say it.
Alwynne, meanwhile, had discovered the two letters that her napkin had hidden, and had neither ears nor eyes for him and his hesitations.
Roger watched her gloomily as she opened the envelopes. The first enclosure was read and tossed aside quickly enough, but the other was evidently absorbing. He shrugged his shoulders at last, and, crossing the room, took his warmed boots from the hearth. The supporting tongs fell with a crash.
Alwynne jumped.
"Oh, Roger, you are noisy!"
"Sorry," said Roger, but without conviction.
She looked across at him with a hint of perturbation in her manner. She distrusted laconics.